Kept In Check
by LadyMonoceros
Summary: We were equally matched. He - a monster that killed on a daily bases, and I - a trained samurai with swords that could destroy him. He enjoyed taking children; I enjoyed killing criminals - especially those who threatened children. He was known as Slenderman, and neither of us could kill the other. Not physically. (Eventual romance). [Warning: Rated T for gore and mild language]
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome to my first horror fanfic. Not sure if I want to continue with it, or at least continue posting it. If I get enough positive reviews, I'll continue, but I can't promise regular updates (though I will try). Thank you for reading!**

Deathwish

I heard the child whimper in the distance, far in the darkness of the thick woods. Silhouettes of tall dark figures surrounded me, looming over as though I were the child. The only thing reminding me that they were merely trees was the piercing illumination of my flashlight; even then, I could swear that my eyes were playing tricks on me. At one point, I thought I had seen a well-dressed man just as slender as the trees walk past in the distance – toward the child's now increased whimpering.

Why was I out in the woods at night? And why was I searching for the child? My neighbors' 5-year-old son wandered off during the evening while he was playing outside. They begged me to help find him since you can't report a missing person until they've been missing for more than 24-hours. Even a kid, though? Stupid laws... but I also understand why they set them. Anyway, that's why I was out here, wandering in the dark woods after dusk. The parents were somewhere else in the woods (we had decided to split up).

The sound of the little boy now crying led me to him, and I quickened my pace in case he was running and crying at the same time. One of my hands gripped the flashlight, the other hand rested on the katana and wakizashi that were belted to my left hip so that they wouldn't bounce everywhere while I ran.

Yeah, I know. What the hell am I doing with those? Well, I'm trained in the art of the sword, and since I'm looking for a lost child in the dark woods, why not have protection?

A gun? Nah. I don't like loud noises, and my precision with them was never very accurate (and yet I was amazing with swords). Besides, a gun would attract the cops before I could finish with the bad guys.

Oh, right. I'm also a vigilante. Keeps life exciting, and puts my training to good use.

Er, right. Back to the little boy and finding him.

I couldn't see much, especially with the distracting flashlight, but it kept me from tripping over logs and branches. And then I heard something strange – long striding steps passing me only twenty feet away. These steps were strange, though – soft, almost inaudible over my own, and not a sound of limbs brushing across the owner of them. They certainly didn't belong to the parents for two reasons: the owner of the footsteps didn't say anything to me, and neither of the parents were tall enough to run like that. I glanced over to the strange sounds, and only noticed a flash of what looked like the same slender figure from earlier. This time, I managed to see a pale bald head attached to the top of the otherwise dark figure. Was this some sort of creepy pedophile? It was a good thing I brought my swords, but why was he ignoring me?

The supposed pedophile increased the distance between us in mere seconds. I wasn't a fast runner, but I could endure some long distances (I guess it balances me out, but still...).

For fear that I would lose the little boy to him, I pushed myself harder to run faster. No sight of the pedophile, but the boy's crying seemed louder. I must be close.

Gotta get the kid. Don't lose him to a piece of trash.

Don't let a mere pedophile defeat you!

The abrupt shriek of a child halted my steps for a moment. I have to admit, I was terribly nervous. The thought of young life not getting a chance to grow infuriated me, and if it were my fault that the child were to die, I'd never forgive myself.

I shook my head and returned to running. "Don't you dare touch him," I screamed at the pedophile.

The boy let out something even I wasn't sure I could muster – a blood-curdling scream that filled the forest's thick air. My heart sank, and I skidded to a stop when I came into view of the little boy. My eyes; I could feel them widen and burn with fury, sadness, fear. My body felt numb, and thus dropped the flashlight, which fell to the ground with a solid _thunk_, facing what I saw, but only lighting half way up.

Black slacks, black shoes; so tall, the light ended at his hips; white, boney hands hung at his sides while the other... tentacles did the work. This was no pedophile – this was a monster! I was no super hero - I was just a well-trained woman who wanted to minimize crime! This monster had the boy held up in the air, and all I could see was the silhouette of him and the tentacles squirming (the boy still screaming); and then, all I could do was watch as the tentacles pulled the boy closer to the tall, slender monster. The screams began to muffle, the boy's body sinking into the dark figure, then... nothing.

No whimpering. No child.

"Jayden!" I could hear the parents far in the distance. They must have heard him scream.

No child.

What do I do? How could I face them?

I shivered, watching the tall figure slowly turn to me. I wasn't cold; I was angry – livid. The monster faced me, or I think he did. There was no face, just the pale head attached to... a sharp black suit? What sort of monster was he?

My right hand quivered as it reached for my katana. I had to fight. He was coming for me next!

One of the tentacles darted toward me, and I drew my katana just in time to slice the incoming appendage like butter. What was left of it drew back. I saw one of the long panted legs take a step back in the artificial light. Was he... afraid of me?

Good. I wanted him to be. I wanted him to scream and cry just as loudly as the boy he absorbed. I wanted to destroy this thing!

"Die!" I screamed, too full of adrenaline and blind fury to make a full sentence; and I lunged at the monster, striking with my katana and drawing my wakizashi at the same time.

The other seven tentacles lashed out at me, but didn't reach me – just the blade of my katana. Three of the tentacles were sliced, the other four were only blocked by my wakizashi as they hit the blunt side of the blade. I saw them try to wrap around it, probably to snatch my short sword from me, but then I heard a sizzling sound, and the tentacles retracted immediately.

"The Hell?" I murmured. Is this monster allergic to Damascus steel? No way.

My thoughts were taken away when I noticed the faceless monster dashing away from me, leaving the range of the flashlight. _Tch._ I scared him off, but I still wanted him dead.

Just as I was about to chase after him, I heard the parents yell for their little boy again, closer now.

I had to face them first. I couldn't let them get caught by whatever I had just battled, so I called back to them, sheathing my swords, and waited to face what I feared most – mourning parents.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2. If you aren't already very interested in the story, then maybe this will grasp you a little better? I'll try to make my chapters longer. Perhaps it will grasp you as well as Slendy's tentacles. Tee-hee.**

Stalker

I had to convince the parents to get back to their house, and the only way to do that was to convince them that there was no more Jayden. That was the hardest part of the night.

"A monster?" The mother, Cheryl, was too stressed over her lost son to be skeptical about my report. I only nodded to confirm that she heard me right. She looked to her husband, Dayle, eyes bloodshot and pouring tears as she held a tissue to her nose.

We had made it back to their cozy home without any further encounter with the well-dressed monster, and so I sat on the sofa across from their own, a glass coffee table separating us.

Dayle asked the question that Cheryl was afraid to find the answer to, "What exactly happened to Jayden?"

For the umpteenth time, I recalled watching what I didn't think was possible, and I lost whatever bit of eye contact I had left with the parents. I answered, "From what I could make out, he was absorbed into the monster. He no longer," I gulped down the lump in the my throat, but it did no good to stop the pain, "exists."

Cheryl began to cry harder while Dayle pulled her closer into his arms, crying silently to himself. My fists clenched, and I cursed that slender man in my head; I even cursed myself for not being able to move. What sort of hero vigilante was I, not able to act for the sake of another? A bad one, that's what.

There was a knock at the door. It was the police that the couple had called. This was going to be a long night, considering the story I had to tell them. I slipped my swords under the couch, looking at the couple to make sure they were okay with it. They were. Dayle answered the door, and two cops walked in.

They first talked with the parents, and when they were told I was the one who witnessed Jayden's "disappearance", it was my turn to be interviewed. What choice did I have but to tell the same story I told Cheryl and Dale? I couldn't just lie in front of them, even though I wanted to, since I wanted no chance of the police finding out about my "night job". Good thing I didn't mention my battle with the slender man.

So, I told them what I saw happen to Jayden. I described the monster, tentacles and all, and as I did, I felt a chill run down my spine. The sudden urge to glance up to the window across the room came over me, and I froze mid sentence.

There he was. The faceless stark white head staring at me as the darkness of the night framed it. I saw him much clearer now than in the woods. He wore a black suit jacket over a button-down collared shirt just as white as his skin, and under the collar was a perfectly placed black tie. From what it looked like with the angle of his torso, he was hunched over, too tall for the window. I don't know how I knew that he was staring at me; perhaps the horrible feeling I had in my gut, or the fact that I had cut most of his tentacles. I'm sure he wanted revenge.

"Ma'am?" One of the policemen tried to get my attention, but all I could do was continue staring at that empty face as if he had some sort of grip on my very eyeballs. I could only notice the vague movement of the cop turning to see what I was looking at, and when he saw, he jumped back into his partner, knocking both of them down, and breaking me out of whatever sort of trance I was in.

I stood and looked to the policemen, who scrambled to get up, the first one sputtering gibberish about the monster being real. "It's right there! It's right there!" He pointed to the window, only to have myself and everyone else in the room see nothing but darkness beyond the glass. I ran to the window and locked it, then closed the curtains.

"Lock your doors; lock your windows," I commanded Dayle and Cheryl. One cop ran to the front door and locked it, the other took his CB radio microphone from his shoulder and called for back-up with a bunch of codes.

Or rather, he tried.

The radio responded with screeching and static that scratched our ears with its high-frequency vibrations, then stopped.

Cheryl and Dayle didn't have to deal with the radio feedback, but they did have to deal with something just as disturbing. I heard Cheryl scream first, and so I ran down the hall leading to Jayden's bedroom. Dayle dashed across the hall from the door opposite where Cheryl was, and I heard him tell his wife to get away from the window as I entered.

There on the window was an etched symbol on the glass. A circle with an X crudely drawn through it. What on earth that meant, I had no clue. I'll have to do research on it later.

I approached the window, knowing that it needed to be locked, though it was odd that the monster used the time to draw rather than enter the house. Just as I grabbed the latch to lock it, I saw Him. He stood there at the edge of the woods, staring at me, and I stared back. That thing must have been eight feet tall! His arms were incredibly long, too, stretching down past his own knees. One arm slowly raised up so smoothly that for a second I wondered if this was all just a bad dream.

But it wasn't.

His hand curled all but one boney white finger, and He pointed at me. I panicked, for some reason thinking that I would instantly die if I let him point at me any longer, so I locked the latch and jerked the window blinds down, blocking all view to the outside.

He wanted me. I was certain, but I couldn't act. Not here, not now. If the cops were to find out who I was, then I wouldn't be able to see the end of this... Slenderman.  
We finished closing up the house, and when back-up officers arrived, they found nothing around. Nothing. No footprints, no trace but the etching in the bedroom window. Cheryl, Dayle, and I were taken to the police station to stay safe for the night. My swords were left under the sofa.

I felt vulnerable.

If the Slenderman was afraid of them, then I needed to keep those swords with me at all times. First, I had to get the cops off my back. I needed to get myself out of this "missing child" case, and that might only be successful if they feel I have no further information (and that I'm not a suspect).

By morning, I gave all of the information I knew, which wasn't much. I did, however, plan to do research about this strange supernatural being as soon as could; the police could do their own research, so screw giving them anything else. In the light of the day, I still didn't feel safe, so once I was released, I headed out and bee-lined it for my neighbors' to retrieve the swords. I managed to break into the house through the front door without damaging it. My dear swords were still under the sofa just as I had left them, so I scooped them up and immediately ran to my own house, locking the neighbors' behind me.

Being a vigilante had its price: not much money. Whatever the criminals had in their wallets, I took for myself as payment, unless, of course, the money was their current crime. Drug dealers were my favorite, since they held plenty of cash in their pockets, but as big as the nearby town was, there weren't too many dealers at one time. Thus, I typically live on just enough earnings to afford a house and utilities. Internet was a definite luxury that I couldn't keep.

Oh well, at least this way I couldn't be tracked as easily when researching for the Slenderman. The problem, though, was having to carry my swords with me into public, and I wondered if the library would be okay with that. Even worse, if the cops saw me with them, they might connect me to the dead criminals they keep finding.

You know, I still haven't gotten a hero name yet. I'd give myself one, but I'm more curious to see what the public will call me. Maybe the police won't allow the press to suggest anything so not to encourage me. Pfft, screw that. If I have to go nameless, then that's just as good – even less to track me with.

So, after a long thought process, I took the risk of leaving my swords at home. My windows and doors were always locked, so I didn't have to worry much about their safety. Heaven forbid someone take my swords, because I would hunt them down to the ends of the earth.

Ahem. Right. Library.

I strolled my way to the small library in my district with no run-ins with danger, though I did have the feeling that I was being watched – constantly. Maybe I was paranoid? I mean, that monster was fast and creepy as Hell, but he seemed more of a night hunter.

I hoped that, anyway.

The library was quiet and hardly occupied. A shame that kids don't use libraries as much as I did back in the day. Guess that's what happens when you get the internet, which was exactly what I came for. I sat at one of the four open PCs and began searching for woodland monsters that were well-dressed. It felt stupid, but I didn't have much to go on.

Then I remembered the strange symbol on the window.

Not hesitating to feed my curiosity, I searched for images of "circles with Xs" and "crossed-out circles" and so on, until I found a nearly exactly replica of the window etching. I followed the link attached to the image and read what it had to offer:

_The Operator Symbol, signifying that He is near._

He? Does He have a name?

_No one knows any other reasons why Slenderman uses this symbol or what culture it originated from._

Slenderman? Ha! I'm good at this. He had other names; most looked German, which I wasn't very good at pronouncing, so I simply stuck with the the first name I dubbed him. It was odd, though, that He originates from Germany. What was He doing in America?

For the next two hours, I watched videos of His sightings, which all ended with the camera fizzing out into static and white noise. What he did with those victims, I wasn't sure, and I could only assume they met the same fate as Jayden. I found it odd that most of these victims were adults. Does Slenderman just attack whoever he can get his hands on? What was his motive? Did he even have one?

I felt stuck. Lost. I wanted to know why the Slenderman exists, and why He did what He did.

And then the computer monitor distorted. The pixels twitched and flickered into pink, white, and light blue vertical lines. I jumped out of my chair and looked around frantically. Was it Him? Where?

Nowhere.

Not that I could see.

I needed to get back to my house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't you love how you plan one thing out, but it changes on you as you write it?**

**Fun fact: This chapter was suppose to be about our main character's vigilante life, and we were going to see her in action against some human brutes, but it seems that she and Slendy had a different idea.**

**I know that I'll be adding some crime-fighting action later, though! And please review! I'm starting to worry if I'm writing for nothing. :(**

Intruder

The incident at the library ended in what seemed as a false alarm. The Slender Man never showed himself, and as I made my way home, no street lights or TVs in store windows distorted the way they had at Cheryl and Dayle's house. I couldn't help but wonder if He didn't want me to learn too much about him. Why?

Inside my home, I sat on the worn blue beanbag in the middle of my living room, holding my two swords close – my katana laying at my side, its blade facing away from me, and my wakizashi in my lap, one hand on the hilt, the other on the sheath. I stared at the bookshelf only a couple of feet in front of me, looking at each title of the books that lined all four of its layered shelves. I was certain that three of them had vast information about mythical creatures and legends, but my mind continued to argue that there was nothing on the Slender Man in them. How was I suppose to learn about my enemy with Him getting in the way?

"Too bad you can't talk," I mumbled as though the Slender Man could hear me. Hell, I expected him to hear me, because I knew he was watching. My window blinds blocked out most of the view from outside, but they weren't of the best condition, and there _were_ small holes and cracks here and there. I really need to get curtains...

This was silly. Just sitting in my house and waiting for my target – this wasn't how I worked!

But this wasn't my usual enemy. This wasn't the everyday criminal I've faced for seven years.

I shuddered, unable to contain how nervous I was; and then my stomach rumbled. "Crap, I haven't eaten yet," I hung my head in defeat. Maybe some food would calm my nerves.

Sliding my swords into the leather holster I made to keep them from slipping through the traditional belt, I walked to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away and through the doorless entrance. It was a tiny kitchen, with cheap floor tiles, and even cheaper countering. There was a stove that one could swear was the first of its kind, and a refrigerator that I still can't believe functions, yet I was grateful for them. I opened the fridge and inspected what small stock of miscellaneous ingredients it had within: lunch meat, half a lettuce head, cheese, a tomato, eggs. Man, I miss cooking real meals.

Shrugging, I decided to make a sandwich, grabbed the ingredients I had, and closed the fridge with a light side kick as I turned back to the counter. I hummed a simple tune to keep my mind off of what I was really waiting for – _Him._ My defense was up, nonetheless, and with the lights on, things were less stressful.

Okay, I admit, I have a small fear of the dark. Only when I'm alone, though.

Anyway, let's speed this up. I finished making the sandwich and snatched a bottle of water from my little multi-pack sitting next to the fridge, then heading back to the bean bag. Half way into a bite, I stopped, and felt my body tense at the sight before me.

There, in the bean bag, was one of my books, casually laying open on a page with a medieval-styled sketch drawn on it, and above the sketch were the typed words "Der Ritter (The Knight)". I finished my bite into the sandwich and glanced down the short hallway that lead to my bathroom and bedroom. The light from my kitchen and living room wasn't able to reach all the way down the hall, and the end was barely visible from within the shadows. My eyes saw nothing, my ears heard nothing. How did I not hear Him while I was in the kitchen? Crap, he's good at sneaking around.

As I cautiously stepped toward the book, I realized that perhaps the Slender Man wasn't trying to hide his details from me, but maybe the more modern bits were false – or even exaggerated. I set the water bottle on the floor next to the bean bag, used my newly free hand to pick up the old faded book, and carefully plopped into my seat with my swords hanging off the side. "The Knight," I mumbled with my mouth full of sandwich, then gulped it down to take another bite as I read into what He left me to investigate.

Faeries, Black Forests, woodcuts, plagues, Germany...

"Dude, he's a faerie," I chuckled to myself. The lights flickered out, and the only bit of light in the house was what little had shone through the window blinds. I felt constricted, as if I were going to drown in the sudden large amount of darkness around me. My heart pounded against my chest. He was certainly here, watching – and listening. "Okay, okay. Even if you are, you're obviously a powerful faerie." The artificial lights returned to their original job, and my heart began to settle. I finished my sandwich and chugged my bottle of water before continuing to read. "So you're originally from Germany, huh? I'd apologize for not knowing how to speak German, but you've already proven that you understand English." I waited for a response. People always told me that my smart mouth would get me into trouble. Maybe it'll get me killed.

I continued, "You like to steal children away, which you've also proven." That horrible scene from the previous night flashed in my mind, and I felt a wrenching pain in my chest. "I'm so sorry, Jayden," I whispered. Sure, I'd lost a few people when protecting them from muggers and such, but they were typically adults who've had their chance at life. It hurt for a short while, and I could move on from their deaths, but the loss of a child wasn't easy to forgive. The corners of my lips pulled down, my voice cracked as I spoke up, "So why are you chasing me? Pissed off that someone actually hurt you? I wonder if I'm the first one to ever do that."

The lights shut off, the right side of the room was cast in complete darkness. I tossed the book aside and backed to the window behind me. It was the only source of light from this room, plus having one less direction to watch over was better for me. I kept myself as close to the wall as possible. One hand on each hilt, both eyes and both ears open, listening, watching. All I could hear was my steady breathing and the powerful beats of my heart, and my breathing grew heavier with the steadily increasing flow of adrenaline. Seconds passed as if they were minutes with nothing to show for it. Would He show himself now? I was sure to have gotten Him pretty upset, but it was surprising how active this Knight, this Slender Man, this _Der Ritter_ was active during the day.

Something silky slid up my ankle. I instantly unsheathed my katana and slashed right next to my foot. I glanced down to see a black tentacle squirming like the dismembered tail of a lizard until it stopped moving all together; and then, to my amazement, it dissolved away into tiny pieces like scrambling ants running back to their mound. Another tentacle striked from the shadows. My heart skipped, and I began to raise my arm for another strike, but the new tentacle quickly wrapped itself around my wrist and pressed it firmly back down against the wall. "Crap," I squeaked, then unsheathed the wakizashi with my left hand, using a reverse grip.

Another tentacle shot out from the darkness, and I slashed it with the wakizashi, to which I was rewarded with sound of the sizzling tentacle piece writhing on the floor. I tossed up the sword to switch into a regular grip and went to slash at the appendage that held down my right arm. As if He could read my mind, another tentacle caught me off guard and wrapped itself around my left wrist. "More crap!" I squeaked again. Now I could hear my heart pounding in my chest over the sounds of my struggling. My mind raced to think of a way out of this predicament. It couldn't end like this!

And then I saw Him, sliding toward me from the dark, His legs moved as though he were taking steps. His pale, blank face only then began to show itself in what light I had, and it stared at me so intensely, I froze for a moment in His icy gaze. The need to escape overwhelmed my body. I feared being within the line of sight of that nearly featureless head of His, but this was my chance.

I took a single step back, looking at Him as though I were cowering, then shot forward a hard front kick right in his abdomen. The Slender Man doubled over, clutching his stomach, and I took this opportunity to use an outer crescent kick with my left leg, connecting with his head and sliding my leg down until I had him hooked behind my knee.

The Slender Man used his real arms to lash at me, one clawed my thigh that was over his neck, sending waves of pain through my mind as he broke the skin. His other hand tried grabbing my right ankle, but I jumped up to swing myself onto his back and see about cutting off all of his tentacles.

That plan, however, didn't go so well.

As my right leg made it to his shoulder, one of his many still available tentacles practically punched me in the chest forcefully enough to knock me off balance and cancel my momentum. I began to fall back, but I kept a tight grip on his neck under my left leg. I swung my right leg under his left arm and managed to wrap it around his waist. He tried pulling me off, but all of the struggling sent us both falling to the floor, my left leg slipping off, and putting me underneath Him with both arms spread to either side. At least I still had my swords in hand.

It wasn't the best thing to say at the moment, but I couldn't help myself, "Hey there, cutie." His face was only inches from mine. I could see the shadows of what vague features he had on his lacking face, and I was pretty sure he was scowling, contrary to my sarcastic smirk.

This sudden change of tone helped me calm down. I could think clearly again. This was when I realized my perfect chance to do some serious damage to him. I spotted his tentacles pressing my wrists to the floor and his arms nearby as they held his slender body above mine. Each appendage was darker than the shadows within my room, and I wondered for a moment if that was possible. Nonetheless, I took my chance and strained my wrists to lift the swords in each hand, swinging them just enough to land a good hit on all four limbs.

What happened next surprised me. My katana looked to have managed a deep cut into the Slender Man's left arm and freed my right arm from the tentacle; my wakizashi, on the other hand, cut through the tentacle, and only did little damage to his right arm.

The Slender Man rose from me as smoothly as a vampire rose from his coffin. We both looked back and forth at my two swords. I noticed the tentacle piece that had held my left wrist melt away into the floor, the other piece only seemed to break itself apart as if dust in the wind, trailing back to its master.

I stood up, keeping an eye on what I could see of Him, which wasn't much. Most of the time, I worried that my mind was playing tricks on me. "Are we done with the foreplay, or did you have something else in mind?" I adjusted my grip on my swords, readying for whatever he threw at me next.

One of his pale boney hands rose to his equally pale face, resting a pair of fingers on the chin as if in deep thought. I watched him. He watched me.

His body began to jitter and fizzle similar to the distortions on interfered camera footage. There was no sound, no white noise to accompany it. Just his image deteriorating until nothing was left.

Nothing.

Just me and the darkness.

My lights came back on all at once, and I was left to stare at the aged blank wall of my living room. Instead of thinking about Him, I wondered if there were more to my swords than I had originally thought.

It was time I pay a visit to the pawn shop I got them from.

******Author Notes:**** The plot should start to pick up after this, so don't worry. And if the action scene is confusing, I wholeheartedly apologize. If it means anything, this fic is for the purpose of practicing actions scenes anyway, so constructive critiques are greatly welcomed!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Mkay. Finally got this chapter written. I keep making my chapters long and longer, but that's probably a good thing. XD**

This chapter focuses on the mystery behind our protagonist's swords and gives clues as to why the cut Slender the way they did. Slendy will make an appearance next chapter, though. :3 He's pretty upset that a human is somehow capable of hurting him, and wants to know how that's possible. lol

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! And special thanks to **_xXx-Voldy's-Gone-Moldy-xXx _****for your reviews! I'm actually a big fan of your "Night of the Hunter" fic.**

* * *

Pawn

About half way into the urban city that was my home, I stopped myself in front of a large, tan, brick building with barred windows on either side of the cheap steel door. The sign hanging in one window read "open" in its typical black, white, and red style. Seven years ago, I purchased my pair of swords at this very pawn shop, _Benny's Pawn Shop_, to mark the beginning of my crime-fighting career. When I had first laid eyes on them, the only thing I expected was wisdom and loyalty from the old swords, and not at all what I would later discover about them.

I took in a deep breath, hoping for the best, as I adjusted my grip on the handle of the long, old leather case that safely held my swords inside. If anyone could tell me about these swords, Benny certainly could; I would visit his shop often due to my fascination with historical or odd-ball objects that would turn up there. He knew me by name, nowadays.

The tiny bell above the door chimed sweetly as I walked inside, the smell of brass and dust and old leather filling my senses immediately. I could hear the sound of fans cheering on, most likely, a sports team from a small television on the counter right next to the door. Here, I found Benny calmly watching the ten-inch screen that faced away from me while he munched on some potato chips.

Benny was an old man these days. Probably in his seventies, though I never asked. His hair was gray with only a pair of darker black hair peeking out from above his ears, trying to remind the world of his youthful days. His skin was dry and wrinkling, splattered with liver spots, and I often worried that he was sickly, but the elderly just seem to get that appearance. One day I will, too.

"I need to talk to you, Benny," I said in a serious voice as I lifted the sword case to give him a hint of what we were to talk about. A heavy yawn escaped my lips without warning, and I mentally cursed the day for what troubles it had given me so far.

The bell apparently hadn't knocked him out of the trance the television had on him, but my voice did, and he jumped in his seat, almost losing his bag of chips before looking up. "Ella! I was getting into the game! Seven to six. This one's gonna be close!" He was talking about some sort of sports game, but I never bothered with them, so I only smiled and nodded to him. "What'cha got for me?" He laid the chip bag against his little TV and stepped over to the longer side of his counter, patting it with his callused hand as a gesture for me to follow.

I obeyed, knowing how things worked in the shop, and set the case on the empty spot of the wooden counter that was protected by a layer of thick scratched plastic. "I'm not going to call you a liar or anything, but I will accuse you of not telling me _everything_ about these swords," I said as I opened the case, spinning it around to let him set his eyes on the swords. There they lay, perfectly wedged in their respective molded cushion that filled the rectangular case; sharp edges facing away from each other, set so that their curved blades mimicked the yin-yang symbol a bit. Benny eyed me with an arched brow, not very much liking my accusation.

"You know I can't read Japanese, Ella," he mumbled, tracing his fingers over the engravings in the sheathes that formed a vulnerable-looking, mostly nude, Japanese man who's intimate parts where covered by a drape of fabric, and a delicate swarm of butterflies making their way to a moon. These two separate images were on the katana and wakizashi, respectively.

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at him, "Yes, yes. I can translate most of whatever you can find in here, I'm sure. Problem is, I haven't found anything telling the story of these two. You never told me where you got them."

Benny chuckled, most likely having a short flashback of my excited self when I had first bought them. I didn't care much about their history. All I knew was that these swords were old and battle-ready, which were only two things that I had hoped for. Now, I had a different interest, and it would later lead to what I needed to protect myself against the Slender Man. "Well, this looks like the original case for it. Whoever previously owned it didn't want to display these swords, which is almost unheard of in Japanese culture." Benny felt around the case's exterior, then along the edges of the crimson colored cushioning, stopping at a small and barely visible piece of similarly colored ribbon peeking out. A grunt of satisfaction escaped his lungs before he reached under his counter for a pair of tweezers. I watched intently, leaning in over the counter, though it wasn't necessary.

With a careful pluck of the tweezers, Benny steadily pulled on the ribbon until it stretched its full length of about two inches. "This is hiding your clues," he tapped the swords, indicating for me to remove them so the ribbon won't break under their weight while he pulled up on it. I gladly took the swords out of the case and set them aside on the counter, never letting my eyes miss Benny's work. He firmly pinched the ribbon between his fingers and pulled up. The case cushioning followed orders until Benny had it flipped up just like the lid. There, in the bottom of the case, lay an old parchment with only two kanji written on it: "Karada" and "Tamashii". Body and Soul.

I brushed aside a most likely racist joke about soul music, or the possibility of an Afro Samurai once owning these swords.

As I studied the hand-written calligraphy, Benny lifted up the parchment to uncover a second one bearing a most beautiful watercolor painting of a samurai warrior in the midst of battle. In his right hand, a katana was cutting down an enemy soldier, while in his left hand, a wakizashi did the same, but there was one difference: this enemy's body broke into multiple butterflies. There was no signature, no name of the person in the painting, not even a haiku.

"Any ideas?" Benny lifted the painting and gently set it aside on top of the kanji parchment that rested on the counter. It was getting cluttered now.

"Mm-mmm," I shook my head, partially lying, I suppose. Thinking over the fights between myself and Slender Man, I did have a vague understanding of these swords, but the modern logic side of me fought against such thoughts. Could these swords be magical? Could they possess some sort of greater power than I wasn't prepared to understand?

I stared at the painting and the swords while Benny felt around the inside of the case to make sure there weren't any other hidden treasures wedged into the lining. "That seems to be it," he said after a short minute. He was good about this stuff, so I trusted that he found all there was that the case had to offer.

"Why didn't you search the case when you first got it?" I couldn't help but ask. It seemed like something a skilled pawn shop owner would do with his new items.

Calmly, Benny replaced everything as it was found, aside from the painting and parchment, which he left on the counter in case I wanted to inspect them further. I set the swords back into the case, too; no need to carry them around in the open and draw unnecessary attention. Once everything was back in order, Benny finally answered me, "I was new to this business when these arrived. Hmmm, some thirty years ago, I guess." He scratched his chin in thought as the memories came flooding back him. "A spry young Asian man stepped in and showed me the case. He seemed angry, and insisted that he didn't care what price I offered him for the set. He even said that it was just some cheap swords that his father wouldn't stop telling fantastical lies about. I guess this man wasn't raised in his culture or something." I watched Benny run a worn hand over the equally as used case before he concluded, "So, I just offered him something under a hundred dollars and assumed they were just some display swords. Those kind are just trash, anyway, unless you're into decorations. If he would have brought it to me today, I would have questioned him about the 'fantastical lies' of his father." He sat back down in his pillow-seated chair, still scratching his chin.

"Did you get a name or something?" I felt a bit silly for asking it. Of course he didn't get a name. People go to pawn shops because they pay cash, and thus make it difficult to track who all had previously owned some items – especially thirty years ago.

"No name," Benny replied. An uproar blared from the little TV, catching his attention. "Think you reached a dead end?"

At first, I wanted to tell him that I had reached one, but an idea struck me just in time. "No. I think I can work with this. Thanks for the help, Benny. Do you want payment for this?"

His hand waved in my direction, brushing off my offer, "I should have checked for all of that long ago. It would have been free then, so I don't see why it shouldn't be now."

He's a sweetheart.

"Thanks, Benny." I picked up the case and papers from the counter and walked out of the shop, leaving him to his sports. The game sounded like it was getting good anyway.  
As I stepped outside of the pawn shop, the bell chiming once again, another yawn escaped me. My eyes felt swollen with exhaustion, and I realized that I still hadn't slept for almost twenty hours. Considering that it was only noon when I had last eaten and then Slender Man came along, then it was about one or two in the afternoon now.

I began walking home, hoping to get a nap or something. The yawning increased in frequency, and all I wanted was a comfortable spot to lay down and pass out. It'd be another hour before I got back home, and then I could have a nice bath before crashing into my bed.

Then the thought struck me: I'd be at my most vulnerable while sleeping. "Aww, man!" I exclaimed, wanting to face-palm myself, but my hands were full. The sudden burst of discontent seemed to attract attention from passerby's, and I was given quite a few glances. No matter. It was best they didn't know what was going on, anyway; however, I couldn't help but wonder if the police would let out what happened last night? Would the local paper get involved?

This would get complicated if more people start to hunt this Slender Man.

When I returned home, I unpacked my swords and wrapped them together in a towel while I took a relaxing bath. The towel would protect them from humidity so they did't risk gathering rust. The brightness of my bathroom light had me feel safe, and I no longer had the feeling of being watched. Man, did I want to fall asleep right there, but this wasn't the first time I had to lose sleep, so staying awake wasn't too hard to do. I kept my mind active, thinking about the papers from my sword case.

If a butterfly was believed to be the spirit of the the dead, then it makes sense that the Wakizashi would be named Tamashii. That said, the katana would be named Karada. Were these swords magical? If so, Tamashii would most likely have the ability to cut through the soul, and Karada would cut through the body.

Duh.

Any average sword could cut through flesh, so by going with the magical idea, there had to be something else that I wasn't seeing. I suppose I _could_ have dropped the magical swords idea, but after personally fighting the Slender Man one-on-one, well, magic seemed much more plausible than before. "Too bad I can't experiment with them without it being considered evil," I joked.

I finished my bath, thinking over what I could remember of the painting, though no other forms of symbolism came to mind. Once I dressed into some fresh clothes, some dark jeans and a T-shirt, and moved the swords back into the living room, I sat down, studying the painting again in case I missed something. Most particularly, I studied the man being struck by the samurai's katana; his body wasn't disintegrating into any sort of creature or flower. The only thing that seemed specific was that his right arm was already chopped off and laying on the ground, while his left arm was clutching a spear in an effort to fight back.

Another yawn forced its way out of me. I need to sleep if I want to stay alert for the Slender Man. The house wasn't safe at all, so that was out of the question. Maybe I was too close to the forest, which means I should go back into town. This thought had me sighing in frustration, but it was worth a try.

I packed some snacks and water into a black backpack, along with a small blanket, just in case. Then I snatched up one of my many pocket knives hidden around my house, and a lighter. After I wake up, I needed to hang around town for work. Man, I was getting poor again. I opened my wallet to reassure myself that it was necessary, and sure enough, there was only a twenty dollar bill left. At least I could afford a meal if I had to stay away from the house for too long. At least the city always guaranteed some sort of criminal for me to stop each night. So, I packed the swords back into the case, placing the parchment and painting on top, then began walking back into town.

The walk was long, and I really wanted to get to sleep. I couldn't risk just sleeping in an alley, even during the day. I need a safe place, if only just for a few hours, and a hotel was more than the money I had on me.

A large church caught my eye, and the idea hit me – I could sleep in there! Most churches were left unlocked. People were always welcome to go in and out for their worship, and it was usually quiet. Luckily, it was a Friday, so there shouldn't be any masses being held, _plus_ evil entities shouldn't be able to enter the church! I walked in, listening to each of my steps on the marble floor echo through the huge building. I easily spotted the large crucifix mounted on the wall above the priest's alter, to which I bowed in respect. "Please allow me to rest here for the evening."

It had been a long time since I had attended church, not because I lost my faith, but because I felt that I couldn't trust the human side of our teachings anymore. Too much had been changed over the centuries, and that bothered me terribly. But enough of that, time for sleep.

I walked down the center isle between the many rows of long wooden pews before choosing one in the center of the room so that no one would notice me right away. It was cold, which wasn't surprising, considering the lack of much fabric in the building. I was happy to find that the pews were lined with cushioning, and unpacked my pocket knife and blanket. The sword case laid on the pew under my legs as I rested on my back, just in case someone tried to steal it in my sleep. I gripped my pocket knife under the blanket as my other arm served as a makeshift pillow. It'd be a shame if I had to fight someone in a church, but a must is a must.

Falling asleep was difficult. The various sounds coming from, most likely, the ceiling of the church echoed around, and I stressed that it was Slender Man. My mind tried to tell that it was his footsteps coming down the isle, or that he was crawling around above me, but I argued back that this was a safe place. Just before closing my eyes, I made sure that I wasn't just imagining that I was being watched. I don't think I was.

The sweet arms of sleep embraced me. I fell into them with little hesitation, my brain finally getting some rest – until I started to dream.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry that i haven't had much time to update. I knew this would happen if I started writing fanfiction again...**

Anyway, we finally get to see Ella on the job, and more plot unfolds.

**I may need to up the rating due to mild swearing, gore, and sexual themes. Let me know.**

Night Shift

It was eerily dark. The shadows of the surrounding trees and vegetation danced as if the illuminations of fire controlled them – but the only source of light was the faint glow of the moon. I could smell the dirt and aging wood in the thick air as it seemed to congest my lungs, yet none of this worried me. Here, I still felt safe and alone.

Alone.

That wasn't true.

One shadow moved differently from the others. It moved so gracefully, almost as though the obstacles that the forest provided didn't exist to it. This shadow moved closer to me, and my heart raced, because deep down I knew what it was.

I knew it was _Him_.

My instinct was to run, to hide, to prepare myself for a fight. I was devastated to find that my swords weren't with me, and even worse, I couldn't move. My arms and legs were heavy and useless. It felt as though I had rested on them too long, and they had gone numb from the lack of blood circulation.

I tried. I tried so hard to make them move. The more I willed them, the closer he came. I became desperate and helpless, thus trying to cry out for mercy.

Not a sound escaped my lips.

No air escaped my lungs, yet I could breathe just fine.

I felt so small, and the trees seemed taller than normal. _He_ was taller than normal.

He was there, in front of me. Staring down with his lacking white face and his abnormally long arms drooping at his thin sides. All I could do was cry – all of my fearlessness was defunct. In my mind, I could hear myself ask Him to be quick. Whatever was going on, I knew that it was beyond my power.

A pale, bony hand touched a finger under my chin, and lifted it up to look at Him. I saw him stooped over me, seeming to have lowered his height, yet still having to lean over a bit to reach me. In the faint light, I could barely make out the features on his head that perhaps shaped a gentle smile where it should have been.

What was He planning?

Just when I thought I might survive, his tentacles sprouted from his back and reached for me. I could see no depth in them – no shading, no lighting. Were they merely shadows as well? And as I pondered this in my newly growing fear, four of the tentacles wrapped themselves around each of my limbs. I was lifted into the air to meet his height, and he held me there, staring at me.

One soft hand gripped my chin, turning my head from side to side. The other hand brushed back my hair, revealing my ears; it spread my eyelids open wider and He leaned a little closer to me. My mouth was opened wide, and my fear was no longer there again.

Was He examining me? What for?

This went on for a while. He examined my arms and legs, even my torso, which was getting embarrassing. I couldn't help but mutter out, "You could at least take me to dinner first." He didn't seem to hear me, which was understandable, as I didn't feel the words escape my lungs.

He began to unbutton my pants.

"Hey, wait!" I struggled under the powerful grip of his tentacles, but they were still dead weights. I let his chest groping slide, but the pants were off limits. "There's nothing down there," my mind continued to scream for me, and the air in my lungs was still trapped. They ached with all of the force I put on them to urge out my cries. "I have the same anatomy as any other woman! Please don't!"

The hands stopped when they gripped the hips of my pants, just before He could pull them down. He raised his head up to look into my eyes – I think. For whatever reason, I could sense that He believed me – that he could _hear _me - but he wasn't happy about it. The muscles where his eyebrows should be knitted down into a deep scowl.

I saw the four tentacles holding me begin to tense up. My limbs strained and stretched in all directions.

Was this it?

My joints snapped out of place, and I again tried to force out a cry.

It was no use. I was still inaudible.

My body burned as if each limb had burst into flames, but they didn't.

The had burst into blood.

The church ceiling loomed over me just as _He_ did – just as white. My body was soaked with what I first thought was blood, but couldn't smell any. It was sweat, lingering the feeling of my body on fire as the vivid dream raced through my mind. I remembered my knife, and clenched the hand that held it as a test for mobility. My fingers worked fine, and I could feel the solid, metal form securely resting within the grip.

I sat up to find myself alone. The stained-glass windows evenly placed along the white brick walls were dark, save for a couple of street lights barely shining through. My things were still where I had left them, and my clothes and blanket were untouched.

Was it just a dream? From what I could tell, it was.

The realistic feel of the dream helped me decide that it was time to go on my nightly job. So, I unpacked my swords and put on my belt holster for them. I slipped my wallet into my deep pants pocket, and grabbed a bottle of water before hiding my backpack and sword case in the cry room. With it being night time, there would be very little people entering the church, and even less people – if any – going into the cry room.

As I walked to the exit, I decided to kneel and pay my respects in the only form I could – prayer. It was silent, short. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep my things protected while I was gone.

The streets weren't very crowded as I strolled around up and down alley ways. As much as I loved a good fight with criminals, I preferred not gathering their attention by flaunting around in plain sight. The moderate temperature of my bottled water was soothing to my still cooling body. After all the sweating I did, another bath would have been nice, but that would mean going all the way back to my house, which I really didn't want to do.

I chugged down the rest of my water and chucked it into the next trashcan I could find. My first step into the sidewalk light was the only one I made as I paused as the sound of two men talking nearby. My foot retreated back into the darkness with the rest of me, and I flattened myself against the alley wall, listening.

"If you can't pay it all at once, then you can't get it all at once," I heard one man sternly say.

"C'mon, man!" The second man whined with a shaky voice, "Can't I just get what I can afford? Just take some of the stuff out of the packs, and even it out. I need this!" From the sounds of it, the voices were coming from across the street, in the next dark alley over.

The street was small, and there was very little traffic – pedestrian or vehicle. I grinned to myself, excited that I got to take down another drug dealer, then backtracked down my own alley to go around all the buildings and approach the men from behind. Despite the desire to say that I'm pretty quiet when I sneak around, I wasn't completely silent, but effective. I hopped over fences and dashed across the lit street after checking for anyone who might see me. Things were going great, and with the drug buyer not wanting to give up, the men were practically waiting for me to get there.

Slowly creeping up to the corner that rounded down the alley hiding the men, I listened in on them.

"We're done here. One flat rate per pack," the dealer shuffled in his pockets, probably putting away the drugs he wanted to get rid of. "Don't have the dough, don't get the cheese." I heard him shove the second man, urging him to get out of his sight. The second man cursed to himself, talking about how he needed his fix. Blah, blah, blah.

Drug heads.

Once he was gone, I peeked around the corner to assess where the dealer was facing. He was leaning his back against the wall, lighting up a cigarette. Most likely, he was waiting for the next client. I slipped around the corner, my hand ready to draw my katana, which I now respectfully called Karada.

Steadily, carefully, I stepped toward him until I was within sword's reach. Then, I waited for the rich-looking man to take another puff of his cancer stick before swiftly striking and cutting off the burning tip.

His body flailed and threw the cigarette to the ground as he exclaimed perverse words and looked toward me with wide eyes. I inched the tip of my sword to his nose, staring him down, though he was taller than me by a few inches. He reached for the gun that was tucked into the front of his pants, but I tapped my sword onto his wrist and he retracted.

The cut wasn't deadly, though it was deep. I had only cut the side below his thumb.

That was just a warning, though.

"I'll give you one chance to get a real job, since this is the first time I've seen you," I raised my sword to his throat, pressing the sharp tip just above his Adam's apple. He swallowed hard, and the motion broke his skin slightly. "If I catch you dealing drugs again, I'll make sure you won't make that mistake a third time." I drew out Tamashii, my wakizashi, and used it to fling out the gun from the man's pants. It clattered to the floor a few feet away and stopped against the wall opposite from us.

"When my boss finds out about you," the dealer began.

"He won't. They never do," I grinned. They always threatened to tell their boss, but I've yet to have gangs hunt me down.

It's not like he could see my face. It was too dark, and I could only just see his face – enough to find the vital points, anyway. I watched his hands in my peripheral vision while continuing to stare him in the eyes. "Drop your drugs and your wallet, then I'll let you go."

"You're nothing but a mugger," he spat.

This ticked me off. I fought the urge to impale him and not give him a chance at all, but that would make me no better than the people I stood against. So, I thrust Tamashii between his arm and waist, then pulled back as I sliced into his side. He cried out, facial features crinkling together, and he tried to lower his body in an effort to relieve the pain, but I held him up with the threat of Karada puncturing his throat.

The dealer began to sweat profusely from the pain. He huffed and puffed as his eyes rolled up to look at me, my gaze never wavering. I didn't bother saying anything – he knew what I wanted.

I watched his hand slowly reach into his back pocket, to which I followed that arm with Tamashii in case it was another gun. The man dropped his wallet to the ground next to him, then reached into the pockets of his leather jacket, dumping out the neatly wrapped packs of cocaine and Ziploc bags of weed. After seeing all available pockets being emptied, I was satisfied.

"Go," I commanded, "and get a respectable job." I pulled my swords away a bit so he could move.

The dealer backed away, sliding along the wall as we watched each other. His head turned just a bit toward the gun that still laid on the ground, but I shook my head at him with my swords at the ready. He retreated, dashing out of the alley as he held his bleeding side.

Now that I was alone, I put away my swords and grabbed a newspaper that had been wadded up and tossed aside. With this, I used the sheets to pick up the drugs and wallet, wrapping them into the papers and cradling them in my arms. I turned to head back down the alley and disappear in the ongoing shadows, but who stood there stopped me before I could start running.

"Jayden?" The name slipped off of my lips as though I believed he might not be dead.

The boy stared at me with tired eyes that were glazed over a look that pierced right through me. He was still dressed in the red T-shirt and blue jeans that he had been in that night the Slender Man stole him away. He never answered back to me.

All he did was stare.

Just like _Him_.

"Jayden," I took a step forward, "are you okay? What did the Slender Man do to you?" I took another step forward, watching closely, listening for anything that might approach me from behind.

Jayden only continued to stand there. His eyes raised as gradually as I closed the distance between us.

I crouched down to eye level with him, "Let's get you back to your parents. They miss you so much." Jayden still didn't respond. He didn't even twitch at the idea of seeing his parents again. I studied him, trying to figure out what was wrong with the poor child. His eyes gazed lazily at me, and the dark circles around them looked as though he hadn't slept in a long time, but it had only been about twenty-four hours since he disappeared. "No really, what did he do to you?" I waited fruitlessly for a response, then, "Did he cut out your tongue?"

"No." The sudden answer had me shiver in fear. He continued, "What did you do to me?"

What? I didn't do anything to Jayden, but try to save him! What was he talking about?

I stood back up, fearing that I may need to run soon.

"How are you able to harm me?" Jayden's monotonous voice seemed dazed. Zombie-like?

Then it clicked. This wasn't Jayden speaking.

It was _Him._ The Slender Man.

I began to step back, looking around in search of the tall figure as if He were nearby. "I'm not completely sure, myself. I'm still researching that." I glanced behind me, then turned back, somewhat expecting Jayden to be either closer to me, or lunging at my face. Neither happened. Instead, he was gone.

"Jayden!" I called out like an idiot. What if someone other than him heard me? I have all these drugs in my arms, which would be a difficult thing to try explaining. I rushed to the end of the alley, looking down both directions that it spread to on either side.

No sign of Jayden.

I bit my lip, wanting to find him, but something deep down told me that it was out of my control. So, I made my way to the nearest police station to drop off the drugs. My mind raced over the new happenings.

If Slender Man was capable of speaking through Jayden, then was He telepathic? If He was telepathic, then was He controlling Jayden, too? Most likely other people, as well. Maybe this is what He did with children, rather than eating them. And why was He so concerned with my ability to hurt him? Maybe this wasn't normal? I mean, I know I'm an excellent swordsman, but dang.

Reaching the police station, I crept in the shadows along the walls until I reached the steps. One by one, I partially unwrapped the drugs from the newspapers and let them roll out on to the steps, keeping my head down just in case any security cameras might see me. Once that was done, I took the newspapers and retreated back down the alley to toss the balled up pages here and there, saving some for other alleys, too. Then, I unwrapped the wallet and used the paper to open it up, leaving no fingerprints. Spreading open the main pocket of the wallet, I was rewarded with several hundred-dollar bills begging me to take them.

I did, of course, then re-wrapped the wallet in the newspaper and tossed it in the nearest dumpster. With an extra one grand in my name, I was pleased with how the night was starting off, despite the chilling visit from Jayden. Too bad the money would be going to a new bullet-proof vest.

It was another hour before I had any further action. Just a mugger, though, trying to "get some booty" from a woman heading home from work – with the bonus of her cash and cards. I heard the woman stifling back her whimpers and crying as the man ravaged her in an attempt to get her clothes off. It was too close to the light, and the woman would be a witness, so I pulled my black bandana from my pocket and wrapped it over my nose and mouth – a lot like those western bandits would do in cowboys verses Indians shows.

With ease, I silently hoisted myself onto a closed dumpster and jumped over the fence separating myself and the target, landing with a front roll to soften the landing. Too bad it wasn't a quiet landing, thanks to the gathered up papers and trash scattered along the ground. This, of course, alerted the man as he finally got the woman's shirt off.

He flashed his cute little knife at me, "Get out of here, punk! I'm trying to get some booty!"

"Pirates work in the seas, idiot," I retorted, and strolled over to him, drawing Karada. Then it hit me – I've dealt with this guy before!

"Oh shit! It's you!" The man exclaimed. It must have hit him, too. He began to back away, holding his knife out and nervously looking behind him, ready to run.

"Yeah," I quickened my pace, "too bad, huh?" I sprinted toward him, he turned and stumbled as he tried to run away. The woman only watched in shock as I planted a solid kick into the guy's rear, sending him falling forward onto his face. From there, I stepped to the side of him, raised my sword, and decapitated him. I took a moment to savor that I had managed to leave a small portion of skin straining to hold its owner's head on his shoulders. The body collapse in a limp pile of itself, and the blood gushed out. I felt refreshed.

But why? That didn't seem like a good thing. It's probably not healthy to enjoy murdering people, regardless of their crimes. So why did I feel happy about it?  
The woman's shaky breathing took me out of my thoughts, and I looked at her. She paused in her motion to reach down for her ripped shirt, staring at me with eyes that begged for mercy. "Please don't," she managed to utter so silently. She was crying, and even though I had killed her attacker, she still reeked of fear.

This wasn't the first time I was assumed as a random assassin. It certainly won't be the last.

I raised my free hand, signing a "halt", but mostly showing that I didn't want to hurt her. I slowly reached down with Karada and wiped the blood on the corpse's clothing, then sheathed. "You're safe," I assured her. "Do you want an escort?"

To my surprise, the woman nodded. "I just want to get to my apartment."

With that, I asked how far she was from it. She replied that we were only a few blocks away. I decided to walk with her down the back alleys; she wouldn't have to be seen without a shirt, since it was ruined, and I wouldn't have to be seen with my swords. She tried questioning me, probably to make sure I wasn't going to try killing her or something. She asked why I fight criminals this way, and why I preferred the swords.

"I've always had the urge to kill," I admitted, keeping my pace even with her own. "Even so, I feel the need to protect the innocent. So, why not make use of those feelings?" I paused for a bit, wondering how to explain my weapons. "The swords are effective and quick, plus they aren't loud like guns." The woman only nodded as she kept her gaze ahead of herself.

We soon reached her apartment building, where she could climb some steps and safely reach her door without me going further. The woman thanked me, then climbed up and out of my sight without looking back. I turned away, and contemplated where to search for crime next, simultaneously wishing I had packed my bullet-proof vest. It was pretty used up, though.

I rounded a corner, and swore that I saw Jayden watching me from across the street. I questioned that the drugs from earlier may have puffed out of their packs a bit while I was carrying them, and thus entering my nose.

The last thing I needed as a drug accident.

Nah, that wasn't it. He probably was watching me, still waiting for me to discover more about my swords. I spoke up, expecting either Jayden or Slender Man to hear me, "I can't do research on them right now, and there's little for me to go by. Try another night."

I looked down the next alley leading to the illuminated street, but no sign of Jayden.

Throughout the night, I saw only glimpses of him, never another one-on-one encounter again. I secretly hoped he wouldn't follow me to the church, but he probably did. By six in the morning, I hadn't bothered with any further criminals, but I did remember that I didn't loot the mugger's wallet. My hand met my forehead as I scolded myself for missing out on a paycheck, but with Jayden stalking me, of course I would forget. Oh well, at least I got the drug dealer's cash.

So, with the morning lazily beginning the day, I made my way back to the church to retrieve my things from the cry room. It was still empty, and I wondered if I could get another nap before a mass were to start. Too bad churches didn't leave their mass schedules up.

With little to do, I settled on going back home for that bath I wanted, plus to change out of the clothes. My pant legs were a bit splattered with blood, and that wasn't the best thing to wear around after a murder.

Heh, listen to me. Murder.

Sounds like I'm the bad guy here.

* * *

**If the ending seemed rushed, I apologize. It was hard to think of a closing, and this chapter was much longer than the last (That will most likely continue to happen, though).  
Thank you in advance for any reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! Got another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the previous, but I wasn't sure if I should add the other stuff I had planned yet. Still, I apologize for the agonizingly slow pace this story has. :(**

Special thanks to my anonymous reviewer, who I forgot to mention last chapter (or the chapter before that?)! I'm glad that my writing interests you, even though it's not your favorite story view. :3

And again, thank you, Voldy, for more reviews! 

* * *

Suspect

I reached home by about 7 o'clock. The little street I lived on was generally empty, but there were only two other houses on this street other than Cheryl and Dayle's and my own. I never bothered learning the names of the other neighbors, and they never bothered me, so there isn't much I can say about them. As for Cheryl and Dayle's, their house looked like a murder scene next to mine, which was planted only twenty feet away. There was police tape across their fence gate, door, and windows. I could only suspect that they were investigating because of the strange mark on Jayden's window, plus the cops who witnessed Slender Man from within the house.

Did they not do any searching yesterday? Or are they still looking for clues? And were Cheryl and Dayle doing okay? I worried that Slender Man might be following them, too, but there wasn't much I could do without knowing where they currently resided. There were no cars parked outside of their house either. Probably too early for more investigating, which was fine with me, since I still needed to clean up.

So, I headed into my house, made sure all of my windows were still locked, and began doing my occasional routine of eliminating the evidence of blood.

Did you know that hydrogen peroxide is effective for confusing forensics blood tests? Not all, but most of the commonly used ones. OxyClean is good for that, too. They both do this neat thing where they cause the oxygen in blood and stains to rise out of them, which is one of the key factors in blood tests.

Science is so cool.

Anyway, I used those on my pants, hand-washing them to make sure all of the stains were out. I scrubbed my boots with it, too, then grabbed some Ziploc bags of dirt from my utility room and made some mud in my bathtub. With the mud, I "walked" my boots in it until they looked as though I had been walking through a forest or something, then made a few prints as if walking into my house with them, and left them drying right next to the door.

Why do I have bags of dirt? Well, mostly for the boots part, but I also label the bags to help credit my fake job as a Cryptozoologist. Since I study all sorts of mythology and related creatures, I figured it would work out, which it has, so far. The bags are labeled with things such as "Bigfoot scat traces", "Unicorn trail", and "Swamp monster mud". They're also various sorts of dirt, too, each involving areas that you might encounter their labels.

Did I ever mention that being a vigilante is hard work? Covering your butt is tough.

After taking care of the boots and clothes, I cleaned my swords with the hydrogen peroxide, then quickly wiped them with water, dried them, and oiled them down. I always felt it risky to use the peroxide on the blades, but no rust has shown up with this method, thank goodness.

In my closet, I keep a cheap sword stand, just to use for situations when expecting police. I grabbed it and a small wooden coffee table from my room, bringing them to my living room and setting them up against the wall opposite of my kitchen doorway. I then removed one peg from the hilt of each sword and replaced them with tightly rolled up paper towels, this way, the swords would look less useful for killing someone. The pegs were hidden in a small safe that I have tucked away in my bedroom closet, which I also laid away my night's earnings and belt holster in.

All right. Most everything was set up. Now to take that bath that I promised myself.

To be honest, I was scared out of my mind to go in that windowless bathroom without my swords, but I couldn't risk having them unprepared for human company. With the police tape around my neighbors' house, it was almost a guarantee that I would get a visitor at some point today. I wonder if they were looking for me yesterday?

Oh well, never mind that. A soothing bath awaited after cleaning out the mud. I even went through the trouble of spoiling myself with some sweet-smelling bath salts that I saved for stressful days. This seemed like a good excuse, plus it would get rid of the cleaning product smell.

The bath was uneventful. No flickering or darkening lights. No strange visitors. Just a relaxing time soaking in the warm, soothing water of my bath. As I laid there, I could feel the lack of sleep catching up to me. An afternoon nap wasn't enough for someone who was being stalked by a murderous entity. I'm sure the stress was getting to me, too, but I could handle it. This wasn't the first time I was stalked by some crazy person. Turned out that it was a gang member who was ordered to find out where I lived. After spending a few days at different hotels, I found out about who he worked for, then took him out.

Then I took out the rest of the gang. One by one, though.

It wasn't a very big gang.

My groggy mind drifted to the thought of Slender Man having some sort of gang. If Jayden was being controlled by Him, I couldn't help but wonder if there were others under this _Knight's_ power. Perhaps He sent Jayden to contact me due to my familiarity with him? I guess He knew I wouldn't just run away from Jayden, nor kill him on the spot. There was no point in avoiding my house, though. _He_ already knows where I live, thus his gang members most likely did, too.

I finished my bath and changed into another set of a fresh T-shirt and jeans. This time, I had cargo jeans. I need more of these. Pockets are nice to have.

I hid away my sword case, simply sliding it under my full-size bed.

Then the idea hit me. I should read over that book again and make sure I didn't miss anything. I mean, if I forgot about the book entirely, then maybe I need to read deeper into what it provides. So, I plucked it off of my shelf, scooted my beanbag to rest close in front of the living room window, and opened the blinds to let in all of the sunlight – just in case Slender Man wanted another fight. He doesn't seem to enjoy being in the light, but I can't count on that too much. Not yet.

Once I was satisfied with the large amount of sunlight glaring through the window, I plopped down in the beanbag and began carefully looking over what was in the book.

This _Knight_ was known for dressing to resemble someone of high status and respect; however, He certainly wasn't that sort of person. Instead, He was known to impale his victim on tree limbs, leaving them alive to torture through disembowelment.

Man, that's gotta suck.

I continued to look through, finding things I hadn't before. Why didn't I remember all that I had read the last time? Most of these key factors seemed like something I could memorize easily. For instance: although the entity had no straightforward motive for his actions, a large portion of his victims were people who had suffered great tragedy at some point in their lives.

Honestly, I doubt much of my life had a great tragedy, but I also don't know what would define it for Slender Man. Perhaps someone had to watch their family be killed by some psychopath? Or simply become homeless due to over-gambling? The book didn't specify.

Before I knew it, my eyes had closed, and everything was dark.

I didn't dream.

Something banged at my window.

No wait. It was knocking.

My heart pounded away before I could even open my eyes, and I bemusedly lifted my head to look up at the window.

It was _Him_.

His black suit. His black tie. His nearly featureless face staring back at me with the sun nearly blinding me as it peaked from behind his head. I jumped back with a start, letting out a yelp, and scrambled to distance myself away.

"Miss Greenhill, I'm Detective Statman," I heard a seasoned voice sound from the window. "Mind if I speak with you for a bit?" My squinting eyes finally adjusted to the light, and I could just barely make out the man's face and detective badge.

I sighed in relief, realizing that I was just imagining things, and went to open the door. Though, having a detective in my house wasn't the best thing in the world for me, I was at least better prepared for him.

He stepped into my house as soon as I opened the door. Looking around casually, the detective gave me a better introduction of himself, "My name is Detective Statman. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions concerning the Hackburries?" He was talking about Jayden and his parents. I studied the man's neatly combed-back brown hair, his narrow blue eyes, and freshly shaven broad face. He was older than me, but I couldn't tell exactly by how many years. Not much, though.

I knew the police would want to talk again, eventually, so there was no other choice but to play along.

"Yeah sure. Whatever you need to know." My stomach rumbled as it caught up with my sudden wakefulness. I cleared my throat, slightly embarrassed, "Mind if I fix me something to eat?"

Detective Statman nodded, continuing to scan his dark eyes around my living room. He must have noticed my book that fell beside the beanbag chair when I panicked. As I opened the fridge to gather sandwich ingredients, the detective commented, "German mythology, huh? Not the most commonly studied subject."

I chuckled lightly while setting my things on the counter and digging through the cabinets, "Yeah, you caught me. I'm doing research on that 'strange man'." I glanced out of the kitchen doorway to see Mr. Statman walk over to my bookshelf and inspect its contents.

"You saw him?"

For only a couple of seconds, I kept quiet – for effect – then answered, "Yeah. He had no face, and looked like he's dressed for my funeral." My grim voice was perfect. I even got a bit of a chill from the fear the resonated from my words.

"Interested in samurai swords, huh?"

I bit my tongue, refraining from correcting the detective that they were called a katana and wakizashi. I really hate when people call them "samurai swords", even though it was generally accurate, it seemed wrong. But I digress. Instead, I peeked from the kitchen, leaning my head out to look as though I had forgotten that the swords even existed. "I got them from a pawn shop some years ago. They're some cheap displays, but I like the feel of them. I mean, the atmosphere that they bring, or something. I'm not exactly an interior decorator." Then, I returned to preparing my sandwich, hearing the detective mumble something. I think he said, "I noticed." Heh. Glad that my home pleases him so.

"So, back to the real matter: What did you see happen to Jayden?"

Ugh. That question again. How many times was I going to have to remember that night? My heart ached, almost as though it were punishing me for not being fast enough to save Jayden. I'm sure I'll always feel that no punishment would be great enough. This time, I didn't even have to act. The sound of my voice was completely honest as I felt my throat tighten. I stopped making my sandwich as I clearly recalled the night once again, staring down into nothing.

"Miss Greenhill?" I heard the detective call to me, snapping me out of my trance.

Stammering my words, I collected myself and answered his original question, "It was hard to tell, but looked like the man _absorbed_ Jayden into his chest. I've never heard of something quite like this creature. I don't even feel safe calling it a _man_." As usual, I refrained from telling him about my battles and other encounters with the Slender Man.

I heard the sounds of pen scratching paper, which was most likely Detective Statman taking notes. "Our men haven't found any traces of Jayden – not even blood. We're sure that he's been kidnapped. Do you know of anyone who would do this?"

"Not really. I never bothered getting to know my other neighbors since they don't live right next to me and all. I only got to know the Hackburries." It was true. Plus, working the night shift meant that my other neighbors would most likely be asleep while I'm awake. No need to make friends with them since I wouldn't be able to spend time with them, right?

"What about other members of their family?" I heard my beanbag being moved around, to which I figured Mr. Statman was probably checking under it or something. "Uncles? Aunts?"

I finished making my sandwich by then and began putting things away, "I guess they have them. I'm usually invited to holiday dinners and stuff, but I turn them down."

"And why is that?" By this point, I grabbed a bottle of water and walked out of the kitchen to find the detective writing in his notepad. It was one of those that you would normally see detectives jotting down their notes in movies and TV dramas.

With a half-hearted smirk, I admitted, "I can't even trust my real family, so why get too close to a new one?" I bit into my sandwich, somewhat thinking about the family and friends I had left behind before moving to this city, but keeping the thoughts as far back as possible until they were only vague whispers.

Detective Statman didn't respond, but rather went to look down my darkly lit hallway, "Do you mind if I take a look around?" I think he suspects that I kidnapped Jayden. Can't blame him, though. I mean, I _was_ all alone from where the parents heard him scream.

Man, I hope Cheryl and Dayle don't suspect me, too.

Still, being defensive about my current situation would make things worse, so I shrugged, "Have at it." I took a seat in the beanbag, continuing my oh-so-wonderful feast of a sandwich.

I wasn't worried about the detective digging too deep in my stuff. He needs a search warrant to do that, and he's yet to show me one. Unless he's one of those "bad cop" kind of guys, then I should get off Scott-free. I did get a bit nervous as the long minutes drug out while I waited for him to return from the back of the house. He took his sweet time, and finally got back by the time I finished stuffing the sandwich into my mouth and was now chugging my bottle of water to force the solids down my poor throat.

What? I was hungry. One meal a day isn't cutting it for me.

"Do you have any form of contact, Miss Greenhill?" Detective Statman readied his pen to jot down the expected information.

I shook my head, still emptying my bottle of water. Once there was none left, I lowered my head and inhaled to release a satisfied sigh. "Not a phone or anything. I only use snail-mail."

Again, the detective scribbled in his notepad, "And why is that?"

"It takes away more money from my project funds."

"You don't seem to have any equipment for your type of work."

Right. Most Cryptozoologists have fancy equipment such as cameras and special signature detectors and stuff. I have books - and dirt. So, I made up stuff, of course. "I feel that none of that is necessary. Just a bunch of fancy gizmos that scare away the Cryptoids. If you're a good tracker, then you can find all the evidence you need – just like any other form of common wildlife."

I watched Detective Statman only nod as he listened and wrote in his notepad, then clicked his pen to put it and his notepad away. "All right, Miss Greenhill. That's all I have for now. I may stop by again, though."

"Sounds good. Don't be surprised if you always find me sleeping," I picked up my German Mythology book and opened it to a random page, pretending to read it while reclining in my overused beanbag chair. Detective Statman said nothing more, and walked out of the house, closing the door behind him. I flipped to the Knight section in the book, scanning over the information as I waited for some time to pass. I didn't want to go digging around my house or closing the window blinds right after he left, or it would seem suspicious.

There was nothing new that I could find in my book, and I was soon refreshed on what I had learned before accidentally falling asleep, so I got up to look along my bookshelf in hopes that I had another book on German Mythology. Sadly, I didn't. Maybe I'm too picky about the types of books I read for this sort of thing? Surely there's some way I could get more information on the Slender Man without using electronics.

I could go to the library and look for another German Mythology book, but the search results from while I was on their computer had a much more promising quantity. I bet Slender Man was just messing with me when He turned off that computer. Jerk.

If there was a lot of information on Him through the internet – especially wiki sites - then perhaps those who commonly use the internet might know something? And what better place to find someone like that than the comic book shop in town? Though, technically, it's a city, but whatever. This sort of thing seemed like a common interest to the stereotypical nerds of society. If not them, then I suppose I could search for one of those horror story clubs or something.

Well, since I'm awake, I might as well go there and see who I can talk to.

First, I need to grab some sort of not-so-obvious defense. Just in case ol' Slender decides to show up or send one of his mind slaves. So, I went into my room and grabbed a knife and its holster to attach on my back belt loop and hide it under my shirt. It was a knife large enough to kill, if used correctly, but small enough to conceal. I then took a one-hundred dollar bill from my safe and slipped it into my wallet. Maybe I could get some good food while I'm out.

Now, where did I put my house keys?

Oh right. I plucked them from the kitchen counter and tucked them into the same pocket as my wallet. All I had to do now was close the window blinds, which I did, and locked the door behind me as I walked out. The bright sun hurt my eyes something fierce, and all I could do was keep my head down just to withstand the stinging pain.

I looked over to Cheryl and Dayle's house, seeing that there were two police cars and one black car – probably Detective Statman's – parked in their driveway. They didn't seem to pay much notice to me, which was good, so I walked on down the road toward the city. There were only a few pairs of legs that I passed by on the way there, not that I could see who they were, but that didn't matter much. Some of them shook my heart when I saw black dress shoes and black slacks.

As I made it into the main part of the city, I felt a terrible sensation in my chest, and began coughing uncontrollably. I stepped to the side, leaning onto a building wall so that I was out of the way of the people walking up and down the sidewalk. My congested coughing forced fluids out of my lungs as though I had some sort of chest cold. I get nauseated by the sight of bodily excretions, so I didn't spit it out, and instead swallowed whatever I had coughed up.

I think I tasted blood.

My coughing finally subsided, and I felt back to normal again. Whatever had happened, I couldn't really figure it out, but maybe I was catching a cold from the lack of sleep and food? Plus, all the stress within the past two days, but who knows. For now, I didn't feel sick, but I'll have to watch myself for any other symptoms.

Time to go talk to nerds.

* * *

**No, Ella doesn't having anything against nerds. She just likes to use labels.  
Very little Slendy action, but I've been doing my homework on Marble Hornets and such, so there will be more and more build-up with this. Speaking of which, totheark is freaking CREEPY! lol Thank goodness I'm not as much of a wuss as I use to be.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Been trying to speed this up a bit, since the story hasn't had much action. Maybe it's just me. Anyway, much more plot development this chapter, so yay! Things will certainly pick up form here, and I'm quite excited!**

Also, I tried something crazy and designed Ella's house on the Sims 3. Sadly, there are no bean bags or katana displays. Not everything is perfect, so I'm hesitant on linking screenshots. What do you guys think? If you like it, I'm thinking about designing Cheryl and Dayle's house, too.

* * *

Surprise

I slowly swung open the glass door that was covered in Anime, Comic, and Sci-fi convention posters, along with its "OPEN" sign that hung from a little transparent suction cup. Beyond the door was a smorgasbord of comics, trading cards, action figures, and table-top games placed neatly in their respective shelves and glass counters. One bald man looked up from behind his display of trading cards to acknowledge me, then went back to whatever he was doing on his computer. To the right of the counter were a few long plastic folding tables and chairs set out on the open floor, and this was where I found five variously aged men having a group card game battle of some sort. I wasn't sure, since I couldn't clearly see the cards from where I was. The youngest man looked about the age of eighteen, and was pretty scrawny, while the oldest was perhaps in his forties, and not so well in shape. Honestly, though, they didn't look like your generic nerds. Two of them seemed well built.

Without much more hesitation, I strolled over to the group and peered over to have a look at their game. "Hey, there. What'cha playin'?"

Three of them looked up to me, finally noticing that a girl walked in. They each greeted me in different tones of mixed feelings. One actually answered my casual question, "We're playing Magic: The Gathering. You any good?"

A tight smirk curled on my lips. So tight, that it kind of ached my cheek muscle. _Pfft._ Am I any good? That's a silly question. So I replied, "I played back in the day, but I had to sell all of my cards." I pulled up a chair off to the side of their game so I could watch and keep my distance. Now, just so you know, I wasn't lying about the cards. Moving to this city was expensive, and I figured that I wouldn't have any groups to play the game with anyway. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

Now that I had broken the ice, it was time to move in for the kill – so to speak. "But that's not what I'm here for. Any of you interested in Horrors?" If any of them recognized what a Horror meant, then I might have some luck in getting what information I need. The downside to using that word was that they existed in this particular card game.

"I thought this wasn't about the TCG," the scrawny boy turned some cards to the side and laid down another card from his hand. Well, he might be of no use to me.

The muscular man with blonde hair countered the scrawny one's actions with a card, then said, "This isn't a campfire to tell ghost stories." Yeah, this one's useless.

The oldest of the group drew a card and sighed as he placed it into his hand an ended his turn. "Horrors like what?" Ah, here we go.

I leaned in, mostly for effect, and answered lowly, "For example: Slender Man." My smirk was flipped down when none of the men reacted the way I had expected. Maybe they don't know anything?

The first guy who made conversation with me chuckled lightly and adjusted his thick-framed glasses that blended well with his dark brunette and shaggy hair. "I heard some cops saw him while investigating a kidnapping a couple nights ago."

Another heavy-set guy finally spoke up. To me, this was "Guy 4", and he looked just a handful of years younger than the one with glasses, but the rugged beard that he seemed to be growing made him seem older at the same time. "Why don't you just go look on the internet? There's loads of Creepypasta wikis for you to read."

"I don't have a computer or smart phone."

"Ever heard of a library?" Why is it that muscular guys end up being douche bags? I think this blonde one is trying to make me look stupid. _Tch._

The mental fight I had with myself only encouraged the urge to fling my knife at the muscular blonde, but I kept my intentions under control. I wanted to tell them that the computers at the library had out when I searched on Slender Man, but maybe that was too much? So I lied, "They seem to have the pages blocked."

The eldest of the group remarked jokingly as he turned some cards to their sides and played another card from his hand, "Maybe it's Slender Man messing with them."

I watched as most of the others sighed distastefully and began removing cards from the table, but the game wasn't over. "Can he do that?" I was referring to Slender Man's effect on electronics, though I had already experienced it myself, it was better to play dumb.

Again, the older man replied, "Some people think he can go into a sort of fourth dimension, and the energy from that distorts electronics."

"A fourth dimension, huh?" I never could grasp the concept beyond 3D. Not sure why.

The bearded man turned all of his cards to the side and placed down a few new cards from his hand. They seemed like creature cards, but I wasn't paying that much attention to the game. After he finished his turn, he said, "He uses it to teleport."

"Slender-walk," the one with glasses corrected.

Odd. I don't think Slender Man ever teleported around me. Or maybe he did during that fight at my house. I wonder if there are any limitations to it?

"You know," the scrawny guy played out some cards, while at the same time snapping me out of my thoughts, "none of this Creepypasta stuff is real, right?"

"And what is Creepypasta?" Honestly, it sounded like some sort of cheap Halloween decoration that teachers would force their elementary classes to make during its respective holiday.

I watched the scrawny one continue his turn, telling the other players what he was doing and who he was attacking. He finished his turn and answered me, "It's basically a category of made-up horror stories. There's this YouTube channel, also named Creepypasta, of someone who narrates all of the good stories."

"So," I gulped as my heart sank in fear, "there's more monsters like Slender Man?" It was bad enough that I was having to deal with _Him_, and I could only hope that none of the other stories were true.

One thing I have learned from reading, though, is that there's always at least a sliver of truth behind every tale.

Regardless, I had to know what I was up against. So, I pressed on with the questions when no one answered my previous one. "What else is Slender Man capable of? Can He have mind slaves?"

The blonde muscle-head tried to hold in his laughter, but failed. I blushed, for whatever reason. The bearded man smirked and answered me with an amused expression, "They're known as Proxies. And while Slender Man is known to have telepathy, his _mind slaves_, as you call them, typically think freely unless Slender Man doesn't see it fit for his plans."

Crap. So He _can_ read my mind! That's not going to bode well during my fights with Him. I'll have to try some mental exercises and keep my thoughts as minimal as possible when He's around. It's a good thing my body typically acts on its own when I'm in battle-mode. Hehe. As for the Proxies, I wondered about Jayden. It was pretty clear that he was under some sort of influence, but maybe that was only so Slender could talk with me without us having to fight.

"Are the Proxies undead? Like zombies or vampires, but not flesh-eating blood suckers?" Basically, I wanted to know if Jayden was still alive and well, or if I needed to give up trying to rescue him. If he was already technically dead, then the only thing I needed to accomplish was putting his body to rest – and maybe even his soul.

Again, the blonde guy laughed at my questions, this time firmly banging his fist on the table. I narrowed my eyes to him, but he didn't seem to notice. Man, it would be nice to just cut out his vocal cords and-

Wait. What was I thinking? This guy was still an innocent! I can't just kill him for laughing at me. When did I get so cruel?

The one with the glasses glanced at his laughing friend and then looked at me, laying down his hand of cards, "No. They're still well alive. They eat, sleep, and breathe just like we do. Why are you so interested in Slender Man?"

Crap. I didn't plan for this. Why didn't I plan to explain this?

Maybe I just figured they'd be interested in talking about a supernatural being without question? Maybe I'm losing my wit? I don't know. Think, Ella. Think! You can't tell them that you've seen Slender. What if they freak out and start asking more questions? You can't tell them about Jayden and his family, or the fact that you were with the cops when they saw _Him._

Or maybe I _could_ simply tell them that I saw the Slender Man? No one really believes crazy people anyway. And these guys don't seem to have any spark of belief that He's real.

I felt my lips slowly part as I thought over and over if this was a good idea or not. Then, I just gave in and admitted, "I think I saw Him and his strange Operator symbol." My voice was shaky, not from the fear of Slender Man, himself, but more of how much trouble this would cause if they believed me.

Now, the blonde man was nearly falling out of his chair as he howled in laughter. "I knew it!" He exclaimed over and over as if just winning the lottery. My eyes cast themselves to the floor in some form of shame. I noticed the fifth man, the other well-built one, look up at me in surprise, and I then realized that he hadn't said a word to me this entire time. It probably wouldn't be any use trying to talk to him here, now that his blonde counterpart was in stitches, so I rubbed my arm to look embarrassed, and quickly walked out of the comic shop. I heard the scrawny guy lecture his laughing friend, "This is why we can't get girls in our group, you ass!"

He was probably right. What a jerk.

I waited a few minutes out of view of the shop door to see if the fifth guy would come out to talk. He didn't, so I figured that I should just accept what information I managed to get and focus on grocery shopping.

Maybe I could treat myself to a nice home cooked meal tonight! Sandwiches were getting overrated for me.

The trip to the super market was simple, aside from when I realized that I had forgotten my grocery sack so I didn't have to worry about the crappy plastic bags ripping on the way home. Guess I'll have to buy a new sack while I'm at the store. I did, of course. It was just one of those collapsible clothes hampers.

While in the super market, I spotted a clock for the public, noticing that it was half-past-noon. If I made the trip quick, I could probably get a nap before having to go out tonight. I strolled around with my shopping cart, up and down the isles while looking for good sales on food and other necessities. Something in my mind clicked, and I took notice of a young man in a brown jacket nearby. The jacket looked familiar, but I couldn't see his face. The fact that I recognized this jacket had me suspicious that I had seen him more times than just a simple accidental occurrence.

I began paying more attention to my peripheral vision, taking routes that weren't so common to a casual shopper. Each time I turned to study this man, he was turned just enough so I couldn't see his face, and that frustrated me. All I could register in my mind was his dark brown shaggy hair, brown jacket, and blue jeans. He didn't push around a buggy, and he never carried anything in his arms, yet he looked as though he were planning to purchase something from the shelves of goods. This went on for an hour, much longer than I had planned to spend in the store; and I eventually gave up, purchased my goods, and packed them into the clothes hamper outside the entrance.

Again, I saw the man with the brown jacket on the opposite side of the entrance, standing next to a trash can and lighting a cigarette. I got only a tiny glimpse of his face, which wasn't really enough to see if I knew him or not, but I noticed the thick sideburns. He didn't seem like any of the criminals I had run in to and only gave warnings.

Maybe he was the silent guy back at the comic shop?

I think that jacket was with him. The color seemed familiar.

Never mind. I'll just have to be careful on my way home.

With all of the other people passing by me on the sidewalk, it was hard to listen for his particular footsteps behind me. I decided not to chance that he might be a part of a gang, so I took a long, winding route home. Down the alleys, behind old buildings, still vaguely heading toward home. I could hear him now.

He wasn't really trying to hide himself from me, from what I could tell.

I rounded a corner, set down my grocery sack, and grabbed my knife, waiting for him to follow. No point in pressing my back against the wall, since he could probably tell that I had stopped walking. I counted the seconds as they crept by. _Forty-six. . . forty-seven. . . forty-eight._

After over a minute, I guessed that he was waiting for me, so I slowly took a wide step around the corner. My chest began to ache, and before I knew it, I was hunched over in another coughing fit. I thought my lungs would come out with all of the mucus that was forcing itself out of my throat. I looked up, making sure that my follower wasn't charging at me, but all I saw was him finally facing me. Instead of a human face, I found a white feminine mask with black eyes and lips staring at me from down the trashy concrete hall of buildings.

I continued to cough, hardly able to catch my breath. This time, I was sure that I could taste blood.

Once it all ended, I picked myself up and saw no one around. Breathless, I replaced my knife in its sheath and slung my sack of groceries over my shoulder, then returned home. I didn't see the masked man the whole way there.

The empty sidewalk leading to my house was a calming sight. I glanced to Cheryl and Dayle's house, seeing that the police tape and cars were gone, leaving only the couple's red sedan parked in its usual place in front of their garage. I was glad to see them home, as if everything had turned back to normal, but I knew it wasn't.

My mind went back to the events with the masked man.

"I wonder if the coughing has to do with Slender Man," I plucked my house key from my pocket and unlocked the door, thinking over each time these strange coughing fits occurred. I never suspected what I would find inside my home.

As my door swung open, letting the daylight into the darkness of its compounds, I found Jayden, holding my swords in each hand as if he were stealing them. All he did was stare at me, standing there as though he had been waiting for me to catch him in the act. I felt my heart race, wondering if this was the chance I needed to catch him and return him to his parents.  
"Jayden," I whispered, not even sure why. "Put those down, hun." I leaned into the doorway, resting my grocery sack inside the house, and smoothly stepped toward the boy as I flipped on the living room light and closed the door behind me. I didn't know how Jayden got in, but at least he couldn't get out with me blocking the door.

The very second that the door clicked shut, Jayden spun around on his heels and darted down the dark hall. "Wait!" I chased after him, cursing the Slender Man for having this poor child under some sort of mind control. Jayden turned into my open bedroom just as I caught up with him, reaching out to snatch the back of his shirt, but my fingers only brushed against the cotton fabric, and I stumbled a bit.

Jayden continued to the opened window next to my bed on the left side of the room. I wondered how on earth he unlocked it from the outside, but shook it off and sprinted to him. The boy was a bit too short to simply leap through the window, so his climbing slowed him down, and I caught him. I grabbed him at his waist, pulled him to me, and struggled to hold on to his now flailing body. The swords banged on my head a few times, but I managed to pry them out of his hands and toss them to the side. By this point, Jayden bit me, which was so much of a shock that I let him go. I don't think he broke the skin, but that can wait. He turned around, dazed, it looked like, and he blinked rapidly as if waking from a dream. I saw the haze in his brown eyes clear up just before I fell to my knees in another coughing fit.

I kept my eyes on Jayden, not wanting to have him suddenly disappear like last time. He looked around, probably wondering where he was, then at me, then his eyes rolled up slightly to look behind me. They grew wide in fear, tears flooding them as if he knew that he should be afraid of whatever he saw. A high-pitched, drawn out cry escaped his lungs, and I had a terrible feeling inside me.

My coughing subsided, and I twisted around to find _Him_ standing in my doorway as if He belonged there. With the minimal light peering through my blinded windows, the ominous feel of the darkness didn't make the Slender Man look any less threatening. I felt my heart race faster, increasing the aches within my chest from all of the coughing. My hand instinctively grabbed the knife at my back, and I staggered to my feet, toning out Jayden's crying as I readied myself for another duel with the Knight.

The bare white head that balanced itself on the darkest of dark clothing only turned itself to possibly look toward my swords that still rested upon the tan carpeted floor. Something inside me whispered that He wanted them, and they were proven right when Slender Man began to stride to them, moving in that fluid motion that was much too unnatural for an earthly being.

I couldn't take any chances. I had to keep those swords.

I lunged for Slender Man, drawing back the knife to give a good stabbing, but a long, black-sleeved arm slammed down on the side of my head, and knocked me to the floor. Man, I must be getting slow, but I can't do anything about that right now. I tried again, gathering myself, and prepared for his arm to swing as I screamed random words in my head to throw him off. It seemed to work, since He again swung his arm at me when I lunged for him the second time. I grabbed hold with my free hand, not wasting any time to land a couple of deep stabs in his forearm before He pulled back.

Was that blood? It was some form of liquid, sure, but it didn't look right.

Whatever, I need to keep myself alert.

Slender Man turned his full attention to me now, and those inky black tentacles sprouted from his back. I couldn't see how many, but I saw them moving on top of what I once that was the darkness of my room, but He was so much crepuscular.

Two of the tentacles lashed out at me. I dodged by dive-rolling to my swords and snatching up Tamashii, then unsheathed it as I looked back to my foe in time to see another tentacle coming right for me. I slashed it, and it dissolve away just as the others that Tamashii had damaged.

Slender Man retracted all of his tentacles, probably knowing something about this wakizashi that I hadn't learned yet.

Good. I wanted him afraid.

Though, He did swing another arm at me, so He wasn't that much afraid.

I blocked with my free arm, pushing his aside to give an opening to Slender's chest, then slashed right across his torso with Tamashii as I rose up to a stand. There was a long gash from his waist to the opposite shoulder. From the look of the shadows on his would-be face, I'd say that He was pretty upset. The Slender Man shoved his arms to me, and wrapped his huge boney hands around my wrists. _Pfft._ Now I get to show off.

My lips curled into a determined smirk as I lowered to a light crouch, then jumped up and planted both of my feet into the tall entity's stomach. With all of my weight on him, and the support of his arms, I pushed off of him to back-flip out of his grip. Slender Man stumbled back a bit, a little surprised at my strength - from what I could read on his lacking face. I took this opportunity to grip Tamashii with both hands and draw back to thrust the blade into Slender Man, but just as I began to push, there was a short sound of static, and then He was gone.

I straightened myself out and spun around to look behind me to check on Jayden. _He_ was there, grabbing the screaming Jayden by his tiny arm, and disappeared again.

With Jayden.

Leaving me all alone and unsuccessful.

For several long moments, I stared at the spot below my still opened window, willing with my mind for Jayden to return, smiling like he use to before the incident in the forest.

He never returned. I guess I'm not very efficient in that aspect.

With a heavy sigh, I convinced myself that I couldn't do anything now, so I began to clean up and replace the pegs in my swords. I didn't really care if the detective returned and noticed the change. The groceries took a while to put away, probably because I didn't want to bother with them now. I checked all of the windows, closing and locking whichever ones that weren't, then decided to study the knife.

It still had the strange fluid on it, which, in better lighting, gave off a very transparent black color. It almost looked like thinned out motor oil after being left in a vehicle much too long. I pulled the blade close to my nose and inhaled deeply, wondering how close to blood this liquid truly was. It smelled, strangely enough, like chamomile tea. I had to smell again, and was confirmed of my senses. Was that possible? I suppose since human blood smelled of iron, then there _was_ a chance.

I decided to collect what little I could of the Slender Man blood in a small jar, closing the lid tight. I hid it far back in my fridge in case it decomposes just as normal blood does.

Afterward, I returned to my room, hoping for a nap, but my thoughts repeated of Jayden's terrified face. My blood boiled with fury when I thought of how Slender Man so easily stole the boy away from me. Once again, I couldn't protect Jayden, and this had me beginning to hate myself; hate myself for failing; hate myself for continuing Cheryl and Dayle's sorrow; hate myself for prolonging Jayden's pain. The only three people I truly cared about in this city, and I couldn't help them.

I gave up trying to sleep, and once the day ended, I went out to search for criminals, hoping for someone who was tough.

I felt like mutilating someone. I felt like torturing them. I wanted them suffer.

Just like my friends.

* * *

**I'm starting to think that this is more of an action fanfic than a horror one. Kinda hard to do when your main character is sarcastic, but that's just her personality. Should I change the genre to action? I'll keep trying for horror, though.**

Don't forget to review, please! D: I'm too critical on my own work...


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I took so long to update. Been working on some other projects, but I've been writing the script to this story while at work.**

* * *

Broken

For three days and two nights, I think I managed six total hours of sleep. My head hurt, my eyes sagged, and I felt miserable. The crying and the coughing. Jayden's constant crying that kept me wandering my house, though I knew after a few attempts that I would never find him. They had me awake at all hours.

I would hear him from one room, but when I went to inspect, it would stop for a few minutes, and then began again in a new room. I would cough almost as often as I heard him crying. Slender Man was messing with me. Taunting me. Sometimes, I thought I could see him out of the corner of my eyes, but when I turned to get ready for a fight, there would be no one there.

Maybe I'm hallucinating.

I'm coughing up a lot of blood, and my lungs burn like coals. Ibuprofen seems to ease the pain, but not completely.

That crying, the pathetic sniffling and whimpering that echoes in my house. I can't stand it! I want to cry with Jayden! The poor kid must be so terrified, constantly being shifted around and losing track of time when Slender Man controls his little mind. I'm so sorry, Jayden! Please stay strong.

As I lay in my bed, getting a break from the mental anguish, I attempted taking a nap. My head sandwiched firmly between my mattress and pillow so that I might not wake up to Jayden's crying, if it were to happen again. My mind drifted to the sweet embrace of sleep, and I felt so wonderful for what seemed like savory minutes. That is, until a polite knocking sounded at my front door, jolting me away from the licorice dreams that swam in my head.

I groaned while I threw off my covers and pillow, trudging out of my room and to the door as the knocking sounded again. My hair was a mess, and my breath probably didn't smell that great, but I wasn't trying to impress anyone right now. So, I unlocked the door and swung it open to find Dayle and Cheryl standing outside.

Good thing it wasn't a killer or something. I didn't even check first.

"Ella! Oh," Cheryl paused and her eyes searched me up and down. "You're still asleep?" It was late in the evening, and much past when I usually woke up.

Dayle elbowed his wife, encouraging her to continue the conversation as if nothing was wrong. "We wanted to invite you for dinner, but you don't have to, if you want to sleep in."

Cheryl's worried look brightened into an excited smile that hinted of the woes she hid behind it. "It's not a huge dinner, but we haven't seen you in a while, and we wanted to check on you."

I rubbed my eyes, thinking over whether or not I should try going back to bed. More than likely, I had lost my chance to get peaceful rest now, so there was probably no use. "Yeah. Yeah, let me get cleaned up. Sorry I'm a mess right now." At least I wasn't in my pajamas.

"Sure!" The couple said in unison.

"It's almost done cooking, so don't be too long," Dayle smirked. I nodded and watched as the two walked back to their home before closing the door, silently grateful that Jayden wasn't crying while they were at the door.

At least I had the energy to bathe each day, though that was all I could muster up from myself. I only stayed out to work for a couple of hours before feeling too tired to think it was safe. Falling asleep while stalking a criminal was not my favorite thing to do.

Anyway, I brushed out my hair, tying it up in a scrunchie, brushed my teeth, and washed my face before going over to the Hackburry house.

I let myself in without knocking. They preferred it that way, though I still felt impolite doing so. "I'm here!" I called out to them, at least, in case they were jumpy after what happened when I was last in their home.

Cheryl's falsely cheerful voice called back to me from the kitchen, "Have a seat, Ella! It's almost ready!"

When I entered the kitchen, the strong scents of gravy and vegetables filled my nostrils. A home-cooked meal smelled refreshing, I could only imagine how it would taste. Dayle was setting the table with plates and utensils. It wasn't a huge table, just a six-seater wooden table with cute matching chairs. All sitting in a space that the windows gave way and rounded to allow a wonderful view of the evening. Or they would, if the curtains weren't draped over them. That's okay, though. With all that's happened, I don't need Slender Man staring at me from outside while I take a break from him.

"How are you holding up, Ella?" Dayle snapped me out of my thoughts as he finished placing everything on the table. "We haven't seen you since," he paused, his eyes glancing away for a moment, "that night."

I stayed quiet for a moment, walking over to the little island counter that separated the stoves and refrigerator from the dining area, and took a seat at one of the four stools neatly placed against it. It was hard to ask, but I needed to know. Detective Statman's appearance had me worrying about it all this time, "Do you guys suspect me of kidnapping Jayden?"

I heard Cheryl abruptly stop the tapping she was doing to get the gravy off of the ladle. Dayle stared at me, his eyes drifting to Cheryl in a faint hint of shock. Cheryl was the one to answer me, and I turned to her as she did, "Of course we don't! Don't be silly." She placed the ladle aside on the counter and turned off the stove flames. I noticed a third pot, and an opened box of macaroni and cheese nearby.

Soon after, dinner was served, and we gathered to the table with our drinks and full plates in hand. The couple sat on either side of the table, while I sat in the middle to keep an even distance between them. There was a bowl of steaming mac-n-cheese sitting across from me, and again, I had to ask. "Is that for Jayden?" It was his favorite food, and he usually was rewarded with a bowl when he had been good for me after I babysat him.

Dayle turned his eyes longingly to the bowl and answered me this time, "Just in case he comes home. We put it in some Tupperware later on, then throw it out after reheating it the next day."

My lips quivered. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't just break down in front of Jayden's parents. I steadied myself, forcing the words from my tightened throat, "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

It was quiet for a while, and we ate bits of our dinner, though I don't think any of us were in the mood to eat. Starting a conversation was hard. All I could think of was Jayden and that night he was taken. I'm sure the others were in the same predicament, though Cheryl broke the silence, "It doesn't look like you've gotten much sleep lately. Is everything okay?"

Of course not! I'm being haunted by some insane faerie and your son! Nothing is okay!

I wanted to tell them so badly, but some things are best left as a mystery to others. So, I lied, which I hated, "Just work keeping me up. How have you guys been fairing? Have you seen," I hesitated to continue, but I felt the need to know, "that man from the window again?" If the Slender Man was messing with them, then I needed to make plans on watching their home as well. It sucked that He bothered me at my own home, but Cheryl and Dayle's house was _not_ on my list of acceptable things for evil entities to invade.

Cheryl and Dayle looked at each other, probably asking my question in silence to the other, then shook their heads. "No. Have you?"

Could I tell them? Should I tell them? I lived only twenty feet from their home, and that was a pretty short distance for even a human killer to travel. If I told them that I saw Slender numerous times at my home, then what's to stop them from worrying that He might visit them again? "No," I continued to lie to them, beating myself up over it. "I think he was just trying to scare us."

The nervousness in their eyes seemed to ease away, and we carried on with our dinner. They asked me about my fake job, which they knew as my only – and real – job. More lies spilled from my mouth, but these I was used to. I told them that I was on the trail of a Cryptoid, but it keeps slipping out of my grasp. Underneath my lies, I was trying to hint that I was searching for Jayden and Slender Man, but I doubt they caught on. I explained that it was a Cryptoid that few people know about, and if I can get enough evidence of it, my career would be a huge success. Cheryl and Dayle were excited for me, and encouraged me to keep up my work. They loved my stories of working on the field, though I could never tell if they fully believed me or not.

After I helped them clean up the kitchen and table, I returned home to more of Jayden's crying. There was no chance of attempting another nap tonight, so I assembled myself for a patrol around the city. I let down my long curly hair and slipped on some darker clothes, stuffed my bandana into my back pocket, gathered my wallet, keys, swords, and stocked backpack, then locked up the house before strolling down the sidewalk.

The sun had already set by now, and the street lamps lit up their cones of light down onto select patches of the concrete sidewalks. Each bit of light just barely reached the next. Cars rolled by, blinding me with their headlights, though the brights weren't on. Headlights just sucked when on foot. Some passers-by honked at me, probably laughing at my swords that rested in their belt holsters. That's okay. One day, those that laughed at me will meet an end, and I will be the one laughing at them.

I will be laughing, slicing, chopping, splashing in their blood as it gurgles up from their throats. I'll ask them, "Is it funny now?" And they'll reply with a few bubbles rising from the thick crimson fluids, painting their faces with smiles that clowns wear. I will -

Oh, crap! I'm thinking _that way_ again! Why? Why?! They just honked at me! Why would I want to kill them? Am I losing my mind?

No. No, I'm just tired and irritable. That's all. If I could get a good day's sleep, then I wouldn't be thinking this way. That's all that's wrong with me.

I hope.

Aside from the random sounds of someone knocking at a door and the swift flashes of shadows, my time in the city suburbs was rather uneventful. It was already eleven at night, and I probably should have gone home, but I didn't feel like dealing with Jayden's sourceless crying. As much as I wanted to save him, it was pointless for me to chase around a voice that led me nowhere. Here in my field of work, I felt at ease. Peaceful. Maybe a nap on one of the rooftops would be a good idea?

My stomach protested against my idea of a nap, but I still climbed up to a rooftop. There, I sat next to the ledge so that I could gaze down into the dimly lit street. I rested my swords in front of me, then took out a bottle of water and ham sandwich from my backpack, and lowered my bandana from my face to hang around my neck. While munching away, my eyes studied the sheaths of Karada and Tamashii, trying to piece together what I knew of them and what happens to living beings when I successfully strike them. I imagined what the Japanese legend, if there was one, might say about them. Who created them? Who wielded them? Why were they made?

Maybe I should attempt visiting some nursing homes later on? It was crazy, and I'd have to make up a good reason why I was asking miscellaneous Japanese residents about some swords, but I think I could get it done.

Tamashii was my greatest concern. It was what promised some sort of great power, but I wasn't sure exactly how it worked. Then, I remembered back to the fight in my bedroom, how Slender Man retracted his tentacle appendages when He saw me wield Tamashii. If that sword targeted souls, then were those tentacles a part of his soul? Could a being such as Himself _have_ a soul? I guess it wasn't implausible.

With those thoughts flooding my mind, I finished my sandwich and downed my bottle of water, then sat there, unmoving, as I watched stray cats and the occasional human cautiously walk by in the street below.

A shuffling sound from behind caught my attention, and I whipped my head around to find the masked man from my grocery trip standing there. He tilted his head from side to side just as a confused dog would do to strange noises. I reached to my swords and grabbed whichever my hand landed on while I shifted to raise into a crouching position, waiting for the strange man to make his move.

He turned and ran, hopping over the ledge and onto the fire escape ladder. His footsteps banged loudly on the rattling iron while I rushed to put my swords in their holsters and pick up my trash. I slung the backpack over my shoulders, raised my bandana back over my nose and mouth, and sprinted to the fire escape, giving chase.

I found him waiting for me on the ground just below, his head tilting creepily as he watched. When I reached the last flight of the escape, he dashed away down a dark alley. Of course, I continued to chase him like an idiot. I wanted to know his connection to Slender Man.

We ran down the back alleys of the city for quite some time. He was faster than me, but we were running out of breath by this point, which I came to notice when he would wait for me before rounding another corner. It was obviously a trap. He was making sure that I was following him. Eventually, my high endurance paid off, and I was only a few feet behind him. He rounded another corner that seemed a little more lit than the other alleys, and it didn't click in my head where I was being led to until I had joined him.

It was a dead end. A wide alley with one dumpster against each of the three walls. In the center was a metal barrel spewing out flames that ate away at some planks of wood and bits of trash. I skidded to a stop when I saw who inhabited this area – who had set the barrel aflame. It was a gang I had been trying to dwindle down to extinction for some time now, but they gained recruits pretty quickly.

The Chromes, as they called themselves. Not very original, I suppose, but that was their leader's choice. Their mark of membership was to wear a chrome, jointed, armor ring on their left index finger, preferably with a sharp claw over the fingernail.

The masked man was stumbling back, looking all around him as the twelve or so gang members surrounded him. I had the sinking feeling that he didn't mean to lead me here, which means he wouldn't be able to talk them out of killing us. Six more gang grunts approached me from behind, blocking off my only exit.

This was bad. They have guns. I have swords. Eighteen guns verses two swords was _not_ in my favor.

I drew Karada and Tamashii, and immediately cut down two of the grunts who were closing in on me. The other four rushed in, and as I turned to cut them down, too, I felt a punch in my stomach, but there was no one there to punch me. Pain overwhelmed me, a pain that I hadn't felt in a long while. Crap, I forgot to wear my vest!

A gunshot rang out, catching my attention toward the inside of the alley, and I saw the masked man fall over as he stumbled to run away. Blood seeped from his pant leg and on to the concrete, and he curled up to grip the wound, crying out in agony. I turned back to my current assailants to fight them off, but I must have been moving slower than I felt, because they grabbed my wrists and took my swords from me without much effort.

My vision was blurring, I think. The mixture of pain and adrenaline was confusing.

The four grunts clung on to my arms and shoulders as I struggled to get free. Even for them, I was putting up a good fight, but they dragged me further into the alley until we reached a man who looked much more flashy and better dressed than the rest of the gang members. He was leaning against the wall, watching our approach, and I knew exactly who it was: Marty Stines. The big boss behind the Chromes. This was their hangout for the night, and I was in the deepest part of it. I cursed myself for being so stupid tonight.

"What a wonderful present! The city samurai walked right onto our doorstep." Marty grinned at me, straightening himself out from leaning on the wall as he shoved a pistol into the front of his pants. I silently hoped it would somehow go off while in there, but it didn't.

One of the grunts holding me gestured his head toward their other captive behind us, "What do we do with the masked guy?"

Marty only shrugged, not very concerned with him, "Let him go. He was nice enough to bring her to us, after all." This had me suspicious that maybe the masked man did intend to bring me here. I had some mixed feelings about him, and most weren't very trusting now.

Never mind that, though. I needed to get out of here and tend to my wound before I bleed out. So, I raised a leg and kicked one grunt's knee in, forcing it backwards as I heard and felt a satisfying crunch. He let go, screaming and stumbling into the grunt holding my same arm's shoulder, and I used my newly free arm to reach across and punch a third guy in the nose, which also broke under my knuckles. The feeling was delicious.

I was brought to a complete halt, though, when the fourth grunt backed off and Marty grabbed me, spinning me around to face him as he shoved a pair of fingers into my bullet wound and twisted them around. My body froze, and wanted to puke. God, that pain! He took advantage of it and pulled me in close until his lips were next to my ear, and he whispered, "That's not the only orifice I'll be invading tonight."

Even with the sickening pain, I couldn't stop my reply, hissing between my clenched teeth, "Your mom's gonna join the party, too?"

Marty jabbed his fingers deep into my wound, pushing the bullet further into me. "I've heard about your smart mouth. It's gonna get you killed." He twisted his fingers around, feeling every edge of my insides. I wanted to faint, to puke, to bite, to scream, to kill, to rampage, to destroy – but my body wouldn't move. So, I did the only thing I could: I talked back.

"Funny thing. It's been killing everyone else." The release of my words somehow unlocked the chains over my body, and I felt the ability to move again. I took this opportunity to pull back an arm, fist clenched, and threw a punch to Marty's face. If nothing else, it at least got him to take his fingers out of my gushing wound as he dodged my sloppy punch.

I felt Marty's fist meet with my stomach, and I doubled over, hurling my recent snack through the flap of my bandana and at our feet. He raised a leg and stomped on my back, forcing me down into my own pile of barf, then grabbed my hair and raised my head to look at him as his hunched over my battered body. I watched him with tired eyes, daring him to kill me. To be honest, I didn't care. At least things would be quiet again. I wouldn't have to hear Jayden's crying, I'd finally get good sleep, and I wouldn't have to deal with scum like Marty again.

With his other hand, Marty tugged down my bandana to reveal the rest of my face, sneering at me, "You've taken down a lot of my men. To kill you right here wouldn't be satisfying enough. Instead, I'm gonna let you bleed out while I and any other member here defiles your body! And then, when you're dead and your carcass is filled with semen, we'll hang you out to dry in the city center for everyone to see!"

Okay, that's going too far. Now, I care if he kills me.

A new dose of adrenaline filled my body, and I felt something else take over me – a monster I didn't know I contained. I pushed myself up, tackling Marty, and bringing him to the ground with me straddling his body. I slugged him in the face over and over, slamming my fists into him without a single care of vital points or the other gang members behind us. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed the back of his head into the concrete flooring, trading between that and punching, until I felt something thunk into my abdomen from behind and the people I had forgotten about pulled me off of their boss.

They began to beat and kick me, throwing me to the ground as I curled up and tried getting a few cheap kicks of my own into them, but the sharp pains of my stomach and back muscles had me flinching. It was even worse when a foot or two would connect with the wounds. I started to picture how my body might look after they were done with me. Dripping with their disgusting bodily fluids, naked and exposed to the public. I wondered if anyone would recognize me in that state. Would they seek vengeance? I worried for Jayden and his parents, afraid that they would never be reunited.

_I'm sorry, guys. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you._

"What the fuck is that?!" The gang members screamed out from the distance, and the ones surrounding me began to back away hesitantly. When I didn't feel any more beatings upon my body, I took the liberty of looking up, curious of what they were afraid of.

My head was spinning, everything blurring. I could make out the figures of the gang members scrambling and taking a moment to fire gunshots. So much screaming, it hurt my aching head. I saw dark vines slithering and lashing as they grabbed random grunts and threw them against the brick alley walls. There were two long vines ending in points, and five others that were a bit shorter with blunted ends. Some of them snatched up the men and women of the gang by each of their limbs and pulled them apart, spraying blood everywhere. The shadows danced together in the firelight, and I was starting to have trouble telling apart from the shadows and the physical forms. Long, dark arms with white hands reached out to one grunt, who continued to fire his gun at the lanky figure that drew ever closer to him. I watched as the white hand that ended the abnormal arm clutched the unmoving human's head and crushed it effortlessly. The body collapsed in a heap to the ground, and I wondered what my fate would be.

Before I could see who the killer was, a new figure ran to me, blocking my view. I think his face was covered with some black hunting mask. All I could see were his eyes, but my vision was too blurred to understand their color. I did, however, take notice of the yellow hoody he was sporting, his hood pulled over his head to hide his hair – if he had any. The yellow-hooded man lifted me into his arms, cradling me. His breath was heavy, probably nervous or exhausted from running. It was all I heard while he turned and carried me out of the alley, and as the light of the fire faded into the darkness of the halls of buildings, so did my vision fall into a deep slumber.

* * *

**I have a one-shot Slender Man fic that I'm working on, too. It'll be in third-person, and not a part of this story.**

**Also, I apologize for the foul language, but well, they're gang members. This is probably the cleanliest use of words they would ever use.**

**Don't forget to review! And thank you for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Lots of Slendy action in this chapter. You even get to learn a little about Ella's background.  
I recently learned that there ****_is_**** a section for the Slender game, where I originally planned to paste this fanfic, but I thought I had checked before and couldn't find the Slender section. Oh well. I find that the mythology section serves better, since the story is heavily driven by Japanese and German mythology.**

Later on, when Ella finally learns of Karada and Tamashii's origin, I'll post a one-shot in the Japanese Mythology section, telling the story of their creation and first master.

Also, I have the screenshots of Ella's house from when I decorated it on the Sims 3, just gotta make a DeviantArt account for this or something. Unless you guys have another suggestion of where to post them?

Anyway. I'll let you read now. Please review! Thank you for reading!

* * *

Truce

Silence. Such a wonderful sound. The weight of its being held heavy in my ears, greeting me with a gentle hum and faint ringing as my eyes cracked open. Wherever I was, it was dark. A dim light helped to adjust my vision as some pale figure moved in front of it. I urged my eyes to roll upward only to find more of the white figure, decorated by a neatly placed red tie at its neck. Faceless. He was faceless. _Him._

The rest of my body's senses began to awaken, and I felt an uncomfortable tug somewhere on my stomach. My eyes fell to see what was causing the discomfort. I followed the arms down, seeing that the sleeves of the crisp white shirt had been rolled up neatly to his elbows. I was surprised to find his forearms to be rather toned, despite his boney hands that handled a needle and thread. Was he sewing up my wounds? Why?

A painful pierce of the needle changed my thoughts, and I groaned in protest, still too weak to give a snarky remark on his work. He paused at my sudden noise, almost as if He hadn't noticed me wake up. I watched his head turn in the bleary lighting, just barely able to see that it had moved at all, if it weren't for the ever-so-faint depressions where his missing facial features should be. He was looking at me, I think. Either way, the important part was that He spoke for the first time, "Rest, my dear; and grow strong again for our inevitable battle to come." His voice was dreadfully soothing, like warm tea pouring onto an icy heart.

My body begged me to return to the darkness of rest and recuperation, but I didn't trust the entity who baffled what I knew of Him. Nevertheless, one of his hands reached over and closed my eyelids for me. I faded into sleep almost immediately.

I was dreaming, but I didn't know it. Everything felt normal, but I silently questioned it.

The steady humming of jet engines roared outside the white walls that held in so many passengers of the 747. I glanced out of the open window, seeing an almost blinding shade of blue. Something inside me explained that I was heading from England to America, but when did I go to England?

I slid down the window blind and looked around until my eyes landed on the back of some long-haired man's head. He had thin, light brown hair that had just a slight waviness; and when he turned around, possibly sensing someone staring at him, I saw his joyful and eager brown eyes from across the isle. He was only two rows ahead, yet I knew every feature of him, down to the mole on his right cheek near his ear.

How do I know this man?

He smiled at me, grinning with his imperfect British teeth, and my heart pounded. I felt myself blush, and smiled back shyly.

I think I once knew this man.

Before I could figure out my connection to him, an explosion sounded outside. An engine screamed. The tickling feeling of butterflies filled my stomach as the front of the plane tilted downward.

The man's excited smile dropped to a panicked frown as he tried to unbuckle his seat belt. For some reason, I did the same; I felt the need to get to him – to protect him. We both struggled to get out of our seats, the other panicked passengers screaming around us.

I managed to get the belt off, and shoved my way passed the people seated in my row. Why did I have to be next to the window? I didn't care about them, though – about anyone - but this mysterious man.

One person held me back, telling me to get back into my seat, and I cried out something. I think it was the man's name. What was it? He reached out to me as the cabin began shudder, threatening to toss me away, but I held steady. I reached to him, stretching as far as I could in desperation.

Our fingers touched. Our eyes locked. I felt that he would be safe soon, but then water rushed from the front of the plane, pushing people past us; pushing me away from the man. How the impact of the plan to the surface of the water didn't throw me forward and, thus, kill me, I didn't know. I didn't care.

I gripped a seat, trying to reunite our fingers, in the least. His mouth moved, calling out a name I hadn't heard in a long time. Was it my name? I was carried further from him as he still reached out futilely to me. His lips shaped out three syllables, but I couldn't hear him anymore.

My heart squeezed.

No wait. It was my lungs. I couldn't breathe!

Oh, God! I'm going to drown!

It was getting darker. I couldn't see the man anymore. There were drowned people and luggage floating over me as I slammed into the back of the plane. I began to cry, knowing that there was nothing I could do to save myself – to save him.

Darkness became light, my eyes flashing open as I gasped in a deep breath, and I found myself lying in my bed. I was home. There was no plane. No water. Judging by the light seeping through my folded window blinds, it was sometime during the day. How long had I been asleep?

I sat up, recollecting what I could remember before blacking out. Or rather, I tried to sit up, but the intense pain of my stomach muscles had me fall back down, cringing in regret. The memories of being shot and beaten up by the Chromes came flooding back to me. Man, I was stupid for not checking corners!

" 'Bout time you woke up," a male voice struck me out of my mental self-lectures, and I turned my head toward the only direction that wasn't in my field of vision. It was that man from when the Chromes were being attacked. He sat on top of my dresser in his yellow hoody and the black ski mask that covered all but his eyes, though there wasn't enough lighting for me to see what color they were. He dangled his legs that wore a pair of rather baggy blue jeans and dark, worn work boots.

"I remember you from the alley," my eyebrows knitted in distrust. "What happened? And don't lie."

The strange man wiggled his black, cotton-gloved fingers and taunted me, "Ooo, what'cha gonna do? Get up and attack?" He chuckled at my unhumored face and lack of reply. "I'm here to give you a message. Masky would have done it, but he's sort of in your situation, too."

"I'm guessing this _Masky_ is the one I chased?"

"Bingo." Considering that the masked man was known as Masky, I dubbed this man by his most notable feature – Hoodie. He swung his legs forward, using the momentum to hop off of my dresser. "Anyway, here's the message: Don't worry about getting attacked in your sleep or anything. Master wants you healthy and alive, so rest up. We'll be watching."

Whatever. Even if they did attack me, there was little I could do in this condition. My concerns were elsewhere. "Where's Jayden? Is he safe?"

Hoodie shoved his hands into the front pockets of his top, probably a little irritated that he was still here, "He's with us, of course; but that's all you get to know."

My blood began to boil, and I wanted to shake the answers out of him. "I swear, if any of you harm Jayden, I will hunt all of you down-"

"Yeah, yeah. Master said not to toy with you, so no playing with Jayden unless He says otherwise." Hoodie had about as much manners as I did with people I didn't like. Touche, Hoodie. Touche. He continued, "By the way, Master also wants to know if you've learned anything more on your swords."

"Crap!" I instinctively tried to get up, worried that the blood from the Chrome gang had rusted my swords, but again my wounds had me freeze up, cringing as I used my arms to hold myself up without further straining my injuries. I think I felt something pop on my stomach wound. Was it a stitch? Whatever. The swords were more important at this point. "What did you do with them?!"

"Geez, calm down. They're on that display rack in the other room. Master had me wipe them down and clean out the sheathes real good." Hoodie actively shrugged off my concern for the only effective defense against his 'Master', who I was more than sure is Slender Man.

A sigh of relief escaped me, glad to know that Slender had enough sense about the care of swords. Why did He have his Proxy clean them, though? Well, I'll think about that later. I guess I need to give some sort of report so Slender doesn't bother me during my little vacation from Him. "I can't exactly perform experiments on living beings, and from what I can tell, that's the only type of things that those swords affect with," I paused, not sure if my words were chosen carefully enough, "whatever sort of magic they have."

A thoughtful hum sounded from Hoodie as he shifted a bit, "Magic, huh? I'm sure Master can work with that."

There was a swollen feeling that made itself known in my lower abdomen. My bladder was waking up, and it wanted attention. "Oh, joy," I rolled my eyes as I tenderly lifted myself out of my bed and tried my best to even out the pain in my back and stomach, "I helped the Slender Man get the advantage over me." I shuffled my feet, carrying myself out of my room, gripping the walls for support to help take some of the burden off of my straining stitches.

I heard Hoodie call out to me, still in my room, "Maybe you shouldn't have such a big mouth."

"Maybe you should shut up and get out of my house," I retorted whilst entering my bathroom, then shut and locked the door behind me.

Oh, man, did that bathroom break feel awesome! It wasn't enough to heal my wounds, though; and as I shuffled to peek into my room, I found that Hoodie was no longer there. He most likely exited through the window next to my bed. That seems to be my new back door now. I shrugged it off, remembering the message he had given me, and made my way into the kitchen to fix some sort of nutritional meal that would help to increase my healing rate.

The next four days passed by pretty quickly (probably because I slept most of the time). When I was awake, however, I walked around the house to keep some of my strength up and get the blood moving. Other times, I would fix myself some bite-sized snacks and a drink to set on the coffee table that I moved - awkwardly, mind you - to the side of my bed. The swords and their stand now rested on my dresser where I could keep better watch over them. I was almost always confined to my bed, and thus used the time to read any and all books I had on Japanese and German folklore. Though I was refreshed on much of my folklore, none of them gave any further clues toward the origin of the swords or hints about the Slender Man and his abilities.

It should be mentioned that once a day, I would wake up to find the bandages and gauze pads around my waist had been replaced. The stitch that I ripped when meeting Hoodie had been fixed as well. Slender's been caring for me in my sleep. I appreciate this, but it's also creepy as Hell. What else is He doing while I'm asleep?

Anyway, by the fourth day, my bullet wounds had begun to seal up, but I was still incredibly sore and weak in their areas. At least I could move around a bit more freely without so much worry about the stitches. I was even able to stand up mostly straight!

By about ten in the morning, I heard a knock at my door while I was fixing a snack. My first thought was that it might be Detective Statman. If so, then it'd be pretty interesting to try and explain why I was walking around funny. I nudged over a bit of the blinds to peek out of my living room window in an effort prepare for who it might be.

It was Cheryl, holding something in her hand. I think a newspaper. Either way, she was more than welcome into the house, regardless that I wasn't excited about having to explain my odd postures, if she noticed them. I opened the door to find a worried look on Cheryl's face, and she held up the confirmed newspaper so that I could read its front page.

"_2__nd__ Child to Go Missing in Forest"_, it read.

"That man took another one!" Cheryl's eyes flooded with the memories of her search during the night we lost Jayden. I don't know how, but I just knew that's what she was thinking about. Maybe it was because I thought about it, too, for a fleeting moment.

Letting Cheryl in, I decided that this might help me with my research on the Slender Man. "Nearby?" The forest stretched a good few miles, and many other neighborhoods graced the edges of it.

Cheryl shook her head, handing me the paper to read further into the article. "About five miles north, I think. One of the neighborhoods off of Bay Street."

I curiously took the paper. Things grew quiet as Cheryl waited for me to finish reading.

_"8-year-old Scott Harvey disappeared late yesterday evening while playing in his backyard, which sits on the edge of Glenwood's neighboring forest. His parents, Mark and Tia Harvey, claim that they had seen their son only minutes before his sudden disappearance. Pike County officers are actively searching for young Scott. Many residents are already speculating that this may be a similar case to the still missing Jayden Hackburry only five miles away, also next to the former Albert Pike campgrounds."_ The rest of the article gave the boy's address where he was last seen, numbers to call for tips, his picture, and physical description.

From what I already knew about Slender, it was silly of me to ask my next question, but I had to play as though I knew as much as she did. "So this guy is a serial kidnapper?"

"It seems that way. Those poor boys. Oh, Jayden!" Cheryl broken down into tears. I don't blame her.

I took Cheryl into my arms, comforting her with a hand rubbing her back. The weight she put on me had me cringing at the strain of my injured abdomen muscles, but I bore through it for her. "Don't worry so much. I'm doing everything I can to track this guy down. Tracking's part of my profession, after all." For once, I wasn't lying about my job.

Cheryl stepped back, a little shocked at what I had told her. "Ella, you could get seriously hurt! You don't even have a gun to protect yourself!" She and Dayle knew that I was trained in the art of the sword, but no human these days thinks they're safe unless they have a gun or some sort of ranged weapon.

"Yeah, probably," I shrugged, casting my eyes to the floor, "but I haven't been pummeled by Big Foot, yet, so I think luck is on my side."

Wiping away the remaining tears that dampened her eyes, Cheryl let out a faint laugh. "I know you love Jayden, but don't put yourself into that kind of danger. Please."

I couldn't help it. I had to tell her _something_ that would assure her that I would get Jayden back. I took a deep breath, and chose my next words carefully. "Cheryl, I can't promise that I'll just sit back while that man has one of the only people I still call family. I will get Jayden back. If not that, then I'll at least get all the leads and tips I can to track this guy down. There's a lot I haven't told you guys about myself, and one day, I hope that I can. For now, though, you just have to trust me, okay?" Our eyes stayed locked for a while. I'm sure she was taking it all in, trying to understand what I was trying to say. Eventually, Cheryl nodded, biting her lip in hesitation. "Okay, Ella. Just don't beat yourself up over it. Dayle and I understand that none of this was your fault."

If only you knew, Cheryl. If only I could tell you how many times I had already ruined the chance of bringing Jayden back to you. This is my fault. I take full responsibility for it. "Mind if I keep the paper? I need to catch up on the world." Cheryl let me keep it, then left the house, claiming to have chores to get done. Crap, I hope she doesn't tell the police what I'm doing.

Whilst in the midst of snacking on my bed and reading through the Glenwood Herald newspaper, I caught up on criminals, comics, politics, and what have you, eventually coming across something that had my heart skip a beat in slight panic. No matter how many times I saw these articles, I never could get passed the worry that I left some bit of evidence behind on the job. The article pertained to the rapist I had beheaded some nights ago. It seemed to be an update, according to how it was worded. The police still haven't found any evidence to track the killer. The only clue is the clean cut severing his neck, and how there was only a bit of skin left to keep the head attached to its body. It's a good thing I'm not a registered martial artist; otherwise, they'd have found me by now.

The twinge in my heart settled out as relief filled me. I was still clear of suspicion. Maybe I should start patting myself on the back for staying under the radar for so long.

I had just finished the article when the lights in my bedroom flickered. I looked up to see that it was some time in the evening, according to the dimming sunlight from my window blinds. Man, I read slow. It was two o'clock when I started the paper. Either way, the flickering of my light stirred up a feeling of frustration within me. Does this guy not know how to keep his word? Maybe He was waiting for me to let my guard down enough?

Whatever.

I roughly laid down the opened newspaper across my lap as the light flickered again, much more heavily this time. My eyes stared at the door, expecting to see Him standing there, but he wasn't. Either way, I felt the need to smack talk Him. "Really? I thought we had a truce!" I was answered by further light flickering.

Then I heard a familiar sobbing.

Jayden.

_Crap._ I slowly got out of my bed, still not able to just hop out all nonchalant like, and crept my way to the bathroom, where the boy's crying was loudest. I gradually gained more and more view of the dim interior of my bathroom, seeing the toilet to the right, and the edge of the bathtub that sat on the opposite wall from me. When I had full view, I found nothing, and the crying had stopped. My impatience was wearing thin, mostly due to the pain in my abdomen, which always had me irritable for stupid reasons. I guess playing tricks on me doesn't count as attacks, but still.

"For fu-" I stopped myself. I had a potty mouth after the first couple of years of being a vigilante, but I felt wrong for using the curse words, so did my best to not use them again. "Hell, Slender!" I called out to Him, showing my disapproval that I'm more than sure He didn't care about. Probably enjoyed it.

I turned around, rolling my eyes again when I found nothing behind me, though I half-expected Him to be standing behind me. My instincts had me peek into the living room, just in case. When I found nothing out of the ordinary, I made my way back to my bedroom, thinking that it was over. He probably just wanted to keep me on my toes or something stupid.

My bedroom light was off. I'm pretty sure I left it on so I could see down the hallway, since there was no hall light to use. He was probably in my room now.

Sighing, I fought the urge to once again roll my eyes, "Seriously, if you just wanted to go on a panty raid, you could have just asked." It wasn't like I had attractive underwear. Just some comfortable stuff that didn't ride up to my ribs. Thongs were terrible, so He wasn't going to find those in my room. I wonder what type He likes, if He even has that sort of interest.

Wait, what?

When I was just about to enter my room, I noticed Him standing at my dresser, facing it. _Pfft. No way_. I stifled a laugh, "Oh man, I was just joking around."

Slender Man turned around, and I noticed that the slash across his chest from our last battle was gone. I wondered, for a moment, where He gets his clothing. Something glimmering in the small light that peered through my window blinds. Those weren't panties. That was my sword! It was still sheathed, though, and He held it so delicately, as if He respected it. Or feared it?

"Messing with my swords, huh?" I stepped into my room, not really caring anymore. Maybe He was still holding that treaty between us. "I still can't find anything to explain them, aside from the obvious theory that it's some sort of Japanese enchantment."

A random thought had me realize something peculiar – I hadn't coughed at all! "Can you control whether or not I cough when you're around?"

His lowered head slowly nodded, distracted with thoughts of the katana He tediously studied with whatever sort of vision He possessed.

"Your hooded Proxy said that you 'might be able to work with;the magic' on my swords. I'm sure you know that simply dispelling the enchantments could backfire on you." It was true. Some enchantments or spells required counter-spells to remove the effects. If one were to simply destroy the source of the effects, there is always a chance that they would remain, which is a terrible thing, if you know little-to-nothing about the enchantment in the first place. The best thing to do is leave it as is until one is fully aware of what needs to be done. Magic is fun.

Again, Slender Man only nodded in reply. He returned Karada to its resting place on the stand so tenderly that not a single thing rattled – not even the cheap rack – and He removed Tamashii, sheath and all, with the same tenderness to inspect it as well.

Jayden's crying started up again, sounding from the living room this time. My eyes narrowed to the curious entity in my room, and I sighed. "I know you'll just take him away before I can get to him. Quit torturing the poor child." He ignored me, of course, and Jayden continued to cry.

I released another sigh, frustrated that the only way to at least stop the crying was to go and see about it. So, I trudged my way down the hall, following the eerily dim light that leaked through the blinded window in the living room. When I rounded the corner, I actually saw Jayden this time, though I wished I hadn't.

Jayden was sitting in my beanbag, holding his knees up to his chest, and rocking slightly as he sobbed and sobbed in confusion. I couldn't help it. I couldn't lose the chance again, so I rushed to him, a little surprised that I was able to touch him. I hugged him, petted his messy blonde hair while cooing to him in an effort to calm him down. "It's okay. It's okay, Jayden. Miss Ella's here now." I put a hand under his chin to tilt his head up, trying to make eye contact for reassurance. My heart raced even faster when I saw a dark smudge on his left cheek.

I got up to turn on the light, and it flickered to life, though dimmer than usual. The first thing I saw wasn't Jayden's smudge, but what was behind him.

A mural on my empty wall. A mural of blood-drawn scribbles. A tall stick figure surrounded by trees, and the Operator symbol finger-painted onto my wall. "Oh, ssshhh- Oh, fff- Aw, crap!" So many thoughts raced through my head. What if Detective Statman returned? What if Cheryl or Dayle showed up again? This was bad. This was so bad! I rushed back to Jayden's side to take him in my arms, then paused when I saw the smudge again, but more clearly now. He had a deep engraving just below the corner of his eye.

The Operator symbol.

"Slender, you piece of shit! What did you do a Jayden?!" That was enough. I warned Hoodie what would happen if any of them hurt Jayden. Leaving such a symbolic scar on his face was just awful! My blood was boiling; adrenaline rushing. Screw the stitches!

Picking up Jayden, who was still crying a bit, I rested him on the hip furthest from my wounds, but it didn't matter. I felt them rip when I lifted him up. Whatever, I'm not letting him leave my grip. I carried him with me to my bedroom so that I could fuss at Slender Man face-to-face. With the truce, He shouldn't attack me, but that was still a risk I was gambling on.

Before I could reach my room, I saw the Slender Man duck out of the doorway, into the hall, to meet me. From behind him were his various tentacles squirming around in irritation.

"I told you not to hurt him!" I stopped halfway down the hall, not wanting to get too close. "What did you do to his face?"

Slender Man reached out all of his tentacles, trying to snatch Jayden away, but I pulled the boy closer to me, burying his head into the nape of my neck, and fell backward to dodge-roll away. More of my stomach and back stitches ripped, a couple of popping feelings stinging me, but this was no time to flinch. I turned and dove into the kitchen, sliding on the plastic flooring, and grabbed a knife that I kept hidden underneath the refrigerator. Its handle was poking out just enough for my fingers to pinch it out of the gap separating the floor from the machine. I backed up, crouching and facing the doorway. More of my stitches tore, and I was pretty sure that the wounds were just about completely open now.

"Miss," Jayden paused to sniffle his running nose, "Miss Ella. You're bleeding." He looked down at his legs, seeing the crimson moisture soaking his pants and my shirt. Crap, it was coming out heavily.

"Yeah," I trained my eyes onto the doorway, knowing that Slender would appear at any moment. "Some bad people hurt me."

It was then that Slender rounded the corner, ducking just slightly to make sure I knew He was looking at me. The light from the blinded kitchen window to my left illuminated enough of his nearly featureless head so that I could see the scowling brow muscles. He reached out with his hands this time.

I slashed at his hand, but the strain of holding myself and Jayden up had me fall forward. My wounded muscles were giving out, and I heard splatters of blood below me. I caught myself with my free arm, knife pinned down under it. The force of us falling and my sudden catch had Jayden lose his grip on my shoulders, but my hold on him had his head only bob back and almost smack the floor. Slender Man took this opportunity to wrap his tentacles around Jayden's exposed upper body.

Jayden began to scream, knowing what would happen if he was taken from me as our tall predator pulled him from my grip. The desperate kid flailed his arms at me, and grabbed on to the first thing his hand made contact with – my hair. A good chunk of it, too. The angle he was being pulled aimed my hair straight to Slender's direction, and it was hard to keep a full view of the situation. He slipped out of my arm, and Slender wrapped more of his tentacles around Jayden's legs, pulling them away from me, so I grabbed at the wrist that held my hair. I used my knife hand to push myself up for a strike, and slashed at what tentacles I could see. My wounds wouldn't allow me to stay upright, or even lean forward, without some other support, so I tried to position myself to ease the stress on them.

Slender Man used this moment to push me back with one of his hands, throwing me off balance, and thus breaking my grip on Jayden's wrist. I slammed into the wall behind me and slid to the floor, my back wound opening wide. I felt nauseated and dizzy. Probably lost too much blood. Crap. I'm gonna bleed to death, aren't I? What a stupid death.

I watched Slender Man back away with the screaming and crying Jayden held in front of him. The faceless entity held an intimidating gaze on me until He and Jayden began to fill with static, then disappeared.

Gone. Again.

"Slender!" I tried pushing myself up. "Slender, you ass!" Screw keeping a clean mouth. I needed to stop this bleeding so I can survive and get Jayden back. Still gripping my knife, I got to my feet, blood spilling out of my stomach, probably because it was blocked while I was sitting. I staggered to my room, leaving a trail of my crimson bodily fluids from the kitchen to my dresser, and found that the bedroom light was on again. One hand on the top of the dresser, knife tugging on the drawer handles, I struggled to open and search through it for my sewing kit. My mind was numb, trying to stay awake.  
Stay awake.

I can't remember which drawer I found the needle and threads in, but I did. I don't even remember if I found the needle already threaded or if I did it myself, which would be a surprise, considering my trembling hands. Standing there, I began to attempt sewing the wound on my stomach closed, since it was the easiest to get to first.

Half way through sewing it, my intolerance to needles piercing my own skin took over me, and I guess that was the final straw that had me black out.

* * *

**Again, I apologize for the language. I'm not big on cursing, and due my best not to. But hey, the characters speak for themselves. That's part of writing, right? :P**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter was longer than I thought it would be, but oh well. The plot thickens!**

**First, though, I'd like to thank CapturedNecko22 for reviewing AND advertising the fic in her own Author Notes. So, I'll do the same in return. If you're interested in comedy/romance Creepypasta fanfics, you GOTTA read her "Dangerous Love" fic! It's hilarious and adorable!**

**Also, special thanks to Miglafluff (aka Skullkid001) for reviewing! Glad to see a new reader! X3**

**Lastly, I have the screenshots of Ella's house posted on my special DA account! Just visit .com All I have right now are the images of Ella's house. lol Still not sure if I want to design the Hackburry house or not, but it WAS pretty fun. Hmmm...**

* * *

Caught

Once again, I woke up in a bed feeling worn and broken. My eyes opened to the darkness of my bedroom. The moon's glow seeped from behind the window blinds just enough so I could see vague details of my room. The doorway near the foot of my bed was the darkest, and I dreaded what might be waiting beyond it.

Darkness.

I had that dream again. The one about the airplane and the British man.

Why on earth would I be dreaming about them? It's been ages since I've ridden in an airplane. It didn't crash during the flight, either. Perhaps itss just my dreams going crazy again. I do tend to have off-the-wall stuff happen in my dreams.

Shrugging the thoughts aside, I eased myself out of my bed, my clothes stiff around my torso for some reason. My sense of smell caught up with the rest of my awakening body, and I was overwhelmed with the scent of my own blood. I paused, taking it in hungrily. The metallic smell had me salivating, though I wasn't sure why. I shook my head to clear my mind, then lifted up my shirt to check on my wounds.

_He_ must of stitched me up again. The wounds were even cleaned up pretty well, though I suppose my shirt's collection of the blood had smeared what red stains I had on my skin now. At least I wasn't bleeding anymore. My fingers traced over the stitches, almost as if I couldn't comprehend that I had become so injured. Was I losing my touch?

No, I was just stupid. If I would have worn my vest that night, I wouldn't be in this situation.

Idiot.

After having a chat with Captain Hindsight, I figured it'd be a good idea to get into some fresh clothes and have a shower. The last thing I needed was for someone to knock on my door, and I answer it while covered in my own blood. So, I scrounged my drawers and sliding door closet for my usual T-shirt and jeans, then had a shower. Right after, I set my stained clothes washing with plenty of OxyClean and cold water. One time, I read somewhere that cold water was good for washing out blood, and it seems to work so far (or maybe that's the OxyClean).

Whilst rubbing the towel through my damp hair, I flicked on the lights and had a look around the house to make sure Slender Man hadn't taken anything, or someone was waiting to catch me by surprise. The trail of blood leading from my bedroom to the kitchen had me recalling the scenario from just a few hours earlier. I assumed that it had only be a few hours, since the pool of blood in my kitchen was still moist underneath its forming crust. When I turned to go throw my towel in the bathroom, I caught glimpse of the blood mural on my otherwise empty living room wall.

My blood didn't bother me. I could easily make up some lie about how I'm a clumsy oaf, and I cut myself while cooking or something; however, Jayden's blood was a different matter. A little boy's blood smeared all over my beanbag and wall? That was asking for the SWAT team to break down my door!

"Crap," I muttered, racing within my thoughts on how to handle this situation secretively and quickly. I'd need a good mop, something that could scrub hard, but all I had was one of those stringy mops that were nice and cheap. Considering my stitches, I couldn't just use some good old elbow grease to fix this, so I'd need to get a sponge mop with a long handle or something; one that could handle both the carpet and the wall. I'd need more OxyClean, too. Paint. I'd need paint to cover the stains on my wall. The blood wouldn't completely come out, so that would be a good way to hide what would be left over. And bleach. I'll need that for the carpets, though it'll discolor the fabric, but I could make up a lie for that, too. Lastly, I'd need a new beanbag. It'd just be easier to dispose of it. Burn it, maybe?

With the plan formed in my head, I gathered some cash from my safe in the closet, put on my "outing knife" with its holster, and locked up the house. Time for a late-night trip to Walmart.

My time spent in the city was practically uneventful. On my way to and from the store, I thought I caught glimpses of Hoodie watching me from afar. He never approached me, and I wasn't in the mood to fight if I didn't have to, so I ignored him the whole time. I bought just about everything on my list, save for the beanbag, because I realized that I wouldn't be able to carry that with all the other bulky objects without hurting myself. The beanbag was the least of my concerns, so I knocked it off my list and focused simply on cleaning the house.

Scrubbing the walls and carpets was a challenge, even with the long handles of the sponge mop and paint roller. I did my best not to use my lower back and stomach muscles, but you'd be surprised how much you use them when pushing and pulling. Nevertheless, I did get most of the stains off after two or three rounds of OxyClean.

I had to take frequent breaks. The pain of using the damaged muscles got to me after a while, and I would break out in cold sweats from trying to bear through it. This was probably one of the few times I really wished I had a stool or normal chair. It would have been nice to sit down, and the bed was a bit low, so I only leaned on the kitchen counter or a wall during my breaks.

Due to having to let the carpets dry after each round of scrubbing, the layers of paint I had to put on the wall, plus the added breaks, the cleaning took me several hours. The morning sun showed through my window blinds, casting a yellowish-orange light into my otherwise off-white living room. My guess was that it was about seven in the morning, and I wondered how this project could have taken so much time. Maybe I had woken up later than I thought.

I was moving on to bleaching the carpets while waiting for the final layer of paint to dry on my wall. It looked like I wouldn't need to put on another coat, but I wanted to make sure before going back to sleep. The strong odor of cleaning supplies and paint filled every inch of my house, and I only had the utility room and kitchen window open. If someone I didn't want around came to visit, and cleaning fumes were pouring out my windows, I'm sure it'd raise questions for them. Or maybe I was just being paranoid?

No, no. I was being careful. Yeah. If I wasn't careful, I wouldn't be able to save Jayden.

Gotta be careful. Cover my tracks. Keep myself innocent.

The lights in my house flickered out, catching my attention. I only sighed and cracked open the window blinds in my bedroom and utility room so I could see a little better. _He_ was here – somewhere - but I didn't feel like approaching him at the moment, so I continued scrubbing the carpet until I felt that the mop needed to be rinsed. The sponge was still darkening from the blood stains, even after two rounds of OxyClean, but it was much less than before. When it began to get a rusty look, I went to the kitchen sink to rinse out the sponge and get a fresh soaking of bleach water. A break would be nice, too.

When I stepped out of the kitchen, still pondering if I should scrub a little longer or have that break, I noticed a dark figure standing in front of the freshly painted wall. It was Slender Man, of course, and He was studying the wall, as though He could see through the paint to find the blood drawings underneath.

"There you are," I sighed. To be honest, ever since the lights had gone out, I was waiting for Him to jump from behind me or something, so it was a bit of a relief to finally know where He was. "What do you want now? I'm not in the mood to fight." Nor in the condition. All of the cleaning products' airborne chemicals were starting to irritate my wounds, and I had splashed a bit of bleach on the front of my shirt earlier. It might be getting to the wound near there.

Slender Man turned around to face me. He turned so smoothly, so gracefully, that I was reminded how inhuman He was. The white of His skin glowed clearly in the dim light, and it made my walls seem as though they were a shade of gray.

I stared at where His eyes should be, looking for answers. My mind was soon filled with thoughts about Jayden and the mark on his cheek. Why did I start thinking about that all of a sudden? No wait. It wasn't my doing. _He_ was sending those thoughts to me. How were those useful?

My eyes drifted to the wall behind Slender, and I eventually put two and two together. Maybe He was asking about Jayden and the mural. The Operator symbol on his cheek was obviously where he got the blood to draw it. Still, what did Slender Man want to know? Not much choice but to ask. "What? You didn't mind-control Jayden into drawing that? I'm pretty sure you at least put that mark on his cheek. What's that symbol even for?"

More images were forced into my mind, completely covering what was real and in front of me. I saw these images as though they were my new foreground, and the sensation was disturbing; confusing. Honestly, it was hard to explain. The best I could compare it to would be seeing one thing, blinking, and seeing something completely new out of nowhere.

But I didn't have to blink. These images just happened.

What He sent me was the answer behind the Operator symbol. I saw cattle lined up, and the front of the line had a sort of contraption made of metal bars. It held one bovine inside it, the head sticking out and the bars clamping shut on the sides of its neck just enough to hinder the creature's movement. Similar bars did the same for its body. A man picked up an iron rod, the tip glowing yellow-hot as he carefully aimed it at the cow's flank, then firmly pressed it into the skin. I heard the sizzling of fur, the burning of flesh, and could smell the stink that lingered with it. The bovine flinched – struggled - at the pain, but the man held fast for several long seconds, until he deemed it long enough for the shape of his iron to be scarred into the flesh. When he lifted it up, I saw the Operator symbol in the pink and red mark left behind, blackened hair trimming around the edges. The man turned to look at me, and he had no face.

Just like that, the images stopped, and I found myself back in my living room again. Fury building up within me. I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves, reminding myself that revenge couldn't me mine this instant. "Tch. Your own branding, huh? Then why did you draw one on Jayden's window?"

Slender Man only chuckled lightly, His slanted shoulders bobbing in rhythm. Again, He sent images, but they weren't answers to my question – I think.

My swords floated in front me, lazily spinning within an empty darkness. They were lit perfectly enough to see every detail about them, but there was no source of light. I could only assume He was asking if I had learned anything further about them. When the image stopped, I responded, "Keeping secrets, huh?" I smirk twitched onto my face, then disappeared just as quickly. "All right. You're at least answering most of my questions." I began looking over the carpet, seeing the bleach starting to stain white where I had scrubbed. A sigh escaped me while I wondered if I'll have to get new carpeting instead. Even so, I began scrubbing again, starting my second round of bleach as I decided to answer Slender's question, "As for the swords, I haven't found anything about them in my books; however, I've have an idea to go visit some nursing homes in the city. I got a tip some time ago about the previous owner of the swords."

Most of the bleach in the sponge had dried up or soaked into the carpet during my break, so I stepped into the kitchen to get a fresh rinse. When I returned to the spot I had left off at, I continued scrubbing again, going down the hall at a gradual pace. "You know, if you didn't want me to keep Jayden, then why did you leave him sitting in my beanbag?"

My view of the carpet and sponge mop left me, and was replaced with images of a vicious dog on a yard chain, charging at something beyond my line of sight. It easily snapped the chain, and lunged out of sight.

I paused my scrubbing, sneering as I began to understand what Slender meant by that. "Aw, your little pet broke his leash?" I stole a glance back down the hall, leaning over to see if I could witness an irritated reaction from Slender, but I instead found him approaching me. He held a finger up to where his lips should be, closing the distance between us.

My heart raced, and I instinctively went into defensive mode. I positioned the mop handle across my body to keep it between myself and Him, ready to strike if I needed to. My feet moved on their own, backing me down the hall, but Slender Man kept up his pace as if pushing. "Whoa! Hey! I thought we still had a truce!" The solid form of the hallway's end thumped against my back.

I was cornered.

Still, the Slender Man held his finger to his missing lips, and pressed his other hand onto the wall near my head. He stared down at me, hunching his lanky body to loom over my much smaller self. I think He was keeping eye contact with me, but it was hard to tell. Even so, I couldn't bring my eyes away from the empty depressions of his shallow eyes sockets. With him blocking out most of the faint sunlight, the already dark end of my hallways was even darker now. I just barely was able to the definition between his hand and head.

After a short moment, the awkward silence was getting to me, which had my sarcastic side jump out. "I would prefer a date before we move forwa-"

Before I could finish, the finger that was once resting on the Slender Man's lips now rested on my own. It was oddly warm, but still boney. I glanced down at the finger, then back up to Slender's ever steady gaze. Why was He trying to keep me quiet?

As though the world heard my question, it answered. There was a knock at my door. Polite, but very noticeable. My heart skipped a beat at the sudden noise, but my eyes didn't waver. I stared at the Slender Man in a sort of awe, wondering how He knew that someone was coming.

"Miss Greenhill?" Detective Statman's voice called from outside. My heart skipped again in panic. What did he want now? This was almost the worst time to visit me!  
_Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap!_ My mind cursed repeatedly within itself, not sure how to handle this situation. I wanted to answer the detective, but Slender's finger was still resting upon my lips, and I had this strange feeling that it would be best to trust Him right now. If the detective saw all of the cleaning supplies and painting I had done, it would certainly be suspicious. I haven't even disposed of the beanbag! I only moved it to the side while I painted and cleaned! Aw, man! Why didn't I go throw it in some dumpster somewhere?

Calm down, Ella.

I inhaled. The air moving through my nostrils, and I caught the scent of Slender Man for the fist time. Beyond the drifting OxyClean, bleach, and paint chemicals in the air, I smelled the freshness of brand new cloth, mixed with a sort of forest-scented potpourri. The musk of wood and dirt lingered around Him, accompanied by something sweet, but I couldn't fully recognize it at the moment. It was kind of nice, and thus calmed my nerves, which was what I had planned to do in the first place. I didn't expect _Him_, to be the reason, though.

Even stranger, I found that Slender's face wasn't nearly as grotesque as I had originally thought. It was, dare I say, like looking at the moon. The smoothed out features of what should be his face were the craters. For a monster dressed in a snappy suit, He was rather handsome. Was I thinking this because I hadn't been with a man since before I moved here? I mean, I never had the time to date, and I have too many secrets to get a significant other involved. Stupid hormones.

Detective Statman knocked on the door again, snapping me out of my silly thoughts. "Miss Greenhill, it's Detective Statman!" I heard the doorknob rattle. Thank God I locked.

Shadows soon danced within the living room. I glanced past what I could of Slender Man's torso, seeing the shadows casting from the window closest to the door. I could only assume that Detective Statman was trying to peek inside to see if I was trying to hide. He wouldn't be wrong.

All I could do was wait. Slender had me pinned – sort of. He would know when it was best to move freely again, so I put my trust in Him (against my better judgment).

Again, shadows began to dance, but from my bedroom window this time. Slender's form was just past the doorway, so Detective Statman wouldn't be able to see either of us. I mentally thanked the house for having this empty space in the hallway. It was perfect for hiding from all the windows.

In the back of my mind, I was still thinking about how awkward it was for Slender to be so close to me. I think He was reading my mind, because He began to chuckle softly, catching my full attention again. Images of the two us embracing flashed by, and all I could do was blush. I could feel my face growing hot, and I shoved Slender Man away, pushing Him with the mop stick. My lips felt lonely as the pale finger drew away from them.

Bad idea. The push had me use more of my wounded muscles than I thought I would, and I doubled over in pain. To my surprise, long black arms caught me, slipping under my own so gently. The white, boney hands gripped my shoulder blades to hold me steady.

Was this the same Slender Man who stole away Jayden? The same monster I tried to, but couldn't, kill? Was this, perhaps, the Knight?

I looked up to gaze into his empty eye depressions in wonder; confusion; admittedly, a little embarrassment, too.

He urged me to my bed, holding my upper body to take off the strain of my wounds. Sure, I could probably walk myself, but for some reason, I didn't mind Him helping. So, I rested the mop against the wall, and did as ordered.

It was as I climbed into bed and laid myself on my back did I noticed that Detective Statman had gone. I felt it safe to talk again. "Why did you help me? Wouldn't you want me to get caught?"

Slender remained silent, and instead pinched the edge of my shirt to tenderly lift it up enough to take a look at my front stitching. After what had happened in the hallway, I couldn't get the awkward thoughts out of my head.

"You move too fast. I still haven't gotten that date, and you're already seeing me without a shirt." He had only moved it up not even past my ribs, but whatever.

After pulling my shirt back down, Slender Man straightened himself back up and stared down at me. Images swarmed my head. Images of various game animals being hunted by man. I flashed a smile, mentally rolling my eyes, "Tch. Yeah, I bet I am just some prey to play with." Since I was pretty sure that we were still doing the whole truce thing, I didn't mind closing my eyes and getting myself comfortable. "If that's the case, then why not kill me while I'm weak?" No images filled my mind. I waited a little longer, just in case He actually had to think about how to answer me.

When I still gained nothing in reply, I peered open an eye to find an empty room, aside from what was normally there. Dresser, swords, closet, windows. Blah, blah, blah. No Slender Man, though. I looked to the doorway just past the foot of my bed, and noticed the artificial light stretching as far as it could across the hallway. My lights were back on.

_He_ wasn't here anymore.

Good. Now I can take a nap. Afterward, I'll finish the carpets and get the beanbag out of here. Still a lot to do, and I can only hope that Detective Statman doesn't show up again.

An aching feeling in my gut had me think otherwise. If the detective came by, then he wanted something, and he'll be visiting here until he gets it – whatever it is.

Two days passed by.

I disposed of the beanbag during the night by carrying it into the city and finding some hobo's trashcan fire. My stitches didn't appreciate the strain I put on them when I carried it into the city, but they held fast, and that's all I cared about. The hobo didn't seem to mind my odd donation, since his source of warmth was getting low on stuff to burn. I cut up the beanbag so the fire wouldn't smother from the its mass.

During the evening of the second day, I heard a knock at my door. I was in the middle of sorting out washing, but decided to answer the door anyway. "Who is it?" I called out as I strolled down the hall, though I knew very well who it probably was.

"Miss Greenhill, it's Detective Statman. Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?"

I reluctantly opened the door, nervous as Hell, but did my best not to show it. "Sure thing. Come on in."

The detective gave me a nod of thanks and stepped into the house, immediately glancing around with his usual air of suspicion. "Been doing some redecorating?" The smell of the wall paint was still lingering, and I think the cleaning fumes were still around.

"A little. The wall seemed so barren, so I figured a different color would help balance it out." It wasn't too much of a different shade, but certainly noticeable. Probably should have painted all the walls in the living room.

Detective Statman didn't seem pleased with my answer. "Most people just buy a painting or wall decoration." I only shrugged at him. He continued giving me interior decorating critiques, "What happened to your carpeting?" His head nodded toward the overly bleached flooring down my hallway.

I bit my lip, not sure if my prepared excuse was perfect, but I didn't have much choice. "I've been sick for a few days. Even had a nosebleed, and well..." I trailed off in my excuse to give a little effect of embarrassment while I lightly shrugged at the stains.

Again, the detective didn't seem to fully buy it. "That's a pretty strange sickness. Have you seen a doctor?" His eyes glared at me skeptically.

"Yeah," I was obviously lying, "he said the nosebleed was just from the stress of the sickness, plus the headaches. I'm bad about pushing myself too far." Again, for effect, I flashed a weak smile.

As he returned to looking around my house, Dectective Statman pursed his lips, "Mmhmm. So, tell me, Miss Greenhill: What is your _real_ career?"

_Crap._ I felt my blood rush to my heart, my face growing cold and pale. My mouth felt dry and full of cotton. "E-excuse me?"

"I've been doing research on you, Miss Greenhill. You live a very low-profile life. Why is that?"

"I-I just like to keep to myself." I looked away, thinking about where all of my knives where hidden. I might have to fight him. How much does he know?

Detective Statman began to close in on me, trying to intimidate me. "I checked every storage unit business in the city, and no one had you listed. You've also changed your name before moving here. What are you running from?"

I backed into my kitchen doorway, knowing of a small knife that I had taped under the counter edging. "I'm not run-" My front door silently and slowly opened. Hoodie crept out from behind it. "Running from anything." I tried to keep the detective's attention. "I just don't take much pride in my real job."

"I bet you don't-" The detective was interrupted by Hoodie tackling him from the side and into the hallway. They struggled against each other as Hoodie tried to pin down Detective Statman. I wasn't sure if this was good or bad, but right now, I had to get out of here. In a nutshell, I was caught. The detective knows that I'm hiding something, and with Hoodie having attacked him, this was going to be on my record for sure. Either way, though, there was a pretty high chance that I would have to abandon my house after the detective's visit.

So, I hopped over the men's struggling and grunting forms, straining my stitches, and dashed into my room. I picked up everything I could think that I would need. Swords, belt holster, backpack, emergency medical kit, an extra set of clothes, and that blasted bullet-proof vest.

"Get back here!" I heard Detective Statman holler after Hoodie. From the sounds of it, they went outside.

Gotta get everything. Get what I need.

I put on the vest, then snatched up my little safe from my closet and stuffed it into the backpack. Then, I grabbed my "outing knife" and its holster, attached them to me, picked up a couple other knives, along with a Swiss army knife, and the swords case with the papers inside. Lastly, I sprinted to the kitchen and threw in a couple of bottles of water, and found some packaged snacks to hold me off for at least a day.

Okay, I think that's good. That's all I need, right?

Yeah, that'll do. I can get other things later on, if needed.

My legs carried me to my utility room window, heaving everything outside. If I went out of the front door, there could be a lot of witnesses, if they heard the commotion with Hoodie and the detective. I quickly, but carefully, climbed out of the window and strapped on my sword holster and backpack. It was heavy, but I would have to bear through it. I closed the window to lessen the idea of where I might have gone to, then escaped into the forest. I could only muster a light jog at this point, but I managed to keep up the pace for a long while.

There were a lot of abandoned buildings in the old camping grounds. I could take shelter there. Would that be too obvious, though? Maybe. If nothing else, I can find some stuff for making a shelter. The grounds were pretty far off. With it being so close to dusk, I'm sure the police won't be able to find me very easily after dark.

Something tells me I won't be getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

**Fun fact: When I first thought about the plot to this story, I didn't plan to have Detective Statman move in on Ella so quickly. I actually wanted a slow progression of him finding more and more about Ella. That didn't happen, but I still like it. It fights his character, and the fact that as a detective, he would have done this research with success in finding out what he did.**

**I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I use a notepad at work to jot down a script to this fic, right? Let's say that I did. So, yeah. I have up to chapter 12 noted down, but I'm not completely sure on how much I like some of the events that happened in them. In fact, there was one point where I had to called an airport helpline to find out how someone who is waiting for someone at an airport finds out that the person they're waiting for died in the plane crash (mouthful there). Turns out - not so easily (unless you're a family member). I was a little nervous about asking because of all the terrorist crap scare these days, but I told them right off that I was writing a story. The lady on the line said that she gets that question a lot. lol Good to know!**

Please review! And thank you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Yeah, sorry this chapter took so long, but it's also a long chapter! XD Things get crazy, and it'll just keep getting that way from here on, too! Woo!**

Special thanks to Bookworm210, AXE-For Her, and a guest who forgot to sign in (though, I'm suspecting that it's Skullkid). It's awesome to see new people reviewing, and knowing that I'm getting a lot of readers!

And, of course, THANK YOU, my returning reviewers/readers for your... loyalty? Dedication? (my vocabulary is shot right now...)

There's a fun fact at the end of this chapter, but I'll let you guys read for now. 

* * *

Betrayed

It's been four weeks since I escaped from my house and began my life as the very thing I had devoted myself to destroying – a criminal.

The problem here was that I wasn't really a criminal. Everyone who didn't know what I had been through were the ones to blame me for the missing children. How many had gone missing? How many were killed? I don't know. I'm only certain of two children. The newspapers have been littered with updates on where I might be and what the police suspect of me.  
They've been through my house; scoured every inch of it; used everything they had found against me. Thank goodness I brought my safe with me, or they would have found out much more – too much more.  
So far, I've been hiding within the vast woodlands behind my house. When the search teams would get too close, I would move into the suburbs of town, knowing that my chances of survival were much higher there. Usually, I would only spend one or two nights, gathering supplies that I could find, and getting information off of hobos that I had made good acquaintances with during my nightly outings long ago. They only knew me by my bandana and swords. No one within my work-life has seen my whole face (well, maybe the Chromes, but they're dead).

There is an abandoned campground that stretches all over the woodlands, and plenty of old buildings full of leftover tools and supplies. Many of my nights during the four weeks of hiding were spent sleeping within these buildings. They weren't very big, but that didn't matter. I only wanted a roof over my head, and a safe place to sleep.

I had managed to find a very old blanket folded up in one of the abandoned sheds, and after some thorough dusting, it was my lifeline to surviving the cold nights. Fall was here, and there was a cold front that passed after the second week. The air became pretty chilly, but I couldn't risk an all-night fire burning while I slept. Instead, when I managed to catch a fish in the small pond within the forest, or a rabbit in my poorly (yet effectively) constructed traps, I would make a small fire just long enough to cook the meat. Never would I make a fire anywhere near the previously made ones. They would always be randomly placed, too. This seemed to work pretty well, since even the K-9 units couldn't follow me.  
My scent was masked by the strong odor of my rabbit skins and fish oils spread over my clothes and body. I smelled awful, but it worked. Each new kill meant new, fresh animal musk, and I knew that the K-9 units had my scent set on them. So far, the police haven't noticed my pattern of going into town, which actually baffles me a bit, since someone smelling like rotting animal carcass should certainly raise questions. Guess I shouldn't complain, though.

I'm ashamed to admit that, as much as I didn't want to, I did have a few encounters with the police that resulted in the deaths of a handful of officers. Mostly, they had found me during the middle of the day while I was bathing in a thin stream. It was the only stream that ran through the forest, and I much preferred running water over still water for drinking and bathing. It was safer, considering the brain-eating amoebas that are commonly found in still waters. Noon was the warmest time of the day, and with the fall air moving in, I didn't need to risk dying of hypothermia. Escaping before more cops arrived was always the worst part. I had to get dressed and gather my things as quickly as possible, and that's not easy at all.  
Those poor cops, though. I cringed at the very thought that their families would be without a husband, a father, a wife, or a mother; but what could I do? If I were to be caught and arrested, I would surely lose any chance of getting Jayden back! Convincing the police that it wasn't me who's stolen the kids wasn't an easy feat, either. There was too much evidence pointing at me. This isn't fair.

I'm so sorry.

Night. The cold chill in the air hung around me as droplets of rain fell from the dark sky. I was sleeping, for whatever that may be considered, since I would wake up numerous times to shift off of the numbing area of my body. With the tattered blanket wrapped around me, I huddled in the darkest corner of an old shed, my back against the wall, and my largest knife gripped tightly in one hand. All of my supplies surrounding me (backpack, swords, and sword case) ready to be carried away at a moment's notice.

My gunshot wounds from the Chrome gang had finally healed, though it took longer than it should have due to my lack of nourishment at times. I had to settle with eating grubs, crickets, and whatever non-poisonous insects that I could find on several separate days. Every once in a while, when I would think that I would starve to death, I'd wake up to a large breakfast, and I'm pretty sure it was either Slender Man or one of his Proxies. That didn't really matter, though. It was great to have a wholesome meal after not eating for a couple of days.

I hadn't heard the police or any sort of human moving through the forest for two days now, but it was too early to let my guard down. Maybe my recent visit into the city had proven useful, and someone spotted and recognized me.

No sign of the Slender Man, his Proxies, or Jayden ever since I left the house. Did He actually lose track of me? It seemed odd, since such an entity was quite powerful in tracking his targets. If I didn't find some lead to Him soon, I would have to move on and search farther. The loss of Slender Man was the loss of Jayden.

When I awoke, the sky had cleared, leaving the earth sprinkled with fresh water and cool air. I cursed myself for not grabbing a jacket ever since the first cold front, but there was little I could do.

My eyes cracked open to the sound of chirping birds, most likely delighted that there were fallen seeds to easily find on the forest floor. The first thing I saw, however, was a familiar white mask staring at me from across the shed. With the angle of the morning light, he had the darkest corner now, and it made my heart skip a beat. Such a sight wasn't what I needed to wake up to.

I pulled out my knife and shifted myself to be ready to move, but when I heard a faint chuckle, I knew that Masky wasn't here to cause me any trouble. A sigh of relief escaped me, and I rubbed my free hand over my face before throwing the blanket off of me. "How's your leg?" I tugged at my dirtied T-shirt to make sure it wasn't riding up my torso, then adjusted my equally as filthy pants. Even with the horrid smell that surrounded me, I at least wanted to look presentable in some way.

"Healed up," Masky watched me, never moving. "I was lucky not to have the bone damaged."

Shuffling through my backpack, I asked Masky what had been nagging at my mind since the night it happened, "Did you plan to bring me to that alley?" I found the bottle of water, toothbrush, and toothpaste that I had been searching for, eager to get the nasty taste of morning breath out of my mouth.

"I wouldn't have gotten injured if that was the case." There was a bit of guilt in Masky's voice. "I just wanted to lead you around and see why Master had such an interest in you."

A humorous snort escaped me as I flashed a smirk. "I'm flattered that He thinks of me so much." I loaded up the toothbrush with its minty paste, dribbled a bit of water onto it, and walked over to the door to look outside. Before shoving the toothbrush into my mouth, I asked, "Speaking of which, what's with the lack of Him toying with me?"

"He's been busy." That was all Masky had to reply about it. He wouldn't tell me why or with what. All he did was sit there in his crouching position, his masked head turned to watch me brush my teeth. We stayed in the awkward silence for a few moments until he changed the subject. "The police have decided to put their search for you on the back burner – if you know what I mean."

I smirked, then spat out the foamed matter. As I then rinsed the toothbrush with the bottled water, I remarked, "Good to hear, though I'm sure my house still isn't safe." A tap of the brush onto the door frame, and it was ready for the next morning. As much I was relieved to know I could sleep a little more soundly at night, the sinking feeling of something much more important filled my chest. "So, why are you really here?"

Masky replied to me without hesitation. He was probably waiting for a good moment to bring this all up. "Master sends a message: 'Prepare yourself'."

Was it that time already? The big fight we planned to have? Was I ready? Would I win?

My body tilted to lean against the door frame, water bottle and toothbrush in each hand as I crossed my arms over my waist. Staring out into the glistening morning of the forest, my mind raced with thoughts of how much strength I may have gained or lost over the few weeks. Eventually, I reminded myself of my oh-so-wonderful musk and laughed softly to myself before wondering aloud to my Proxy visitor. "Do you think He'll like my new perfume? I call it _God, I Hope the Dogs Don't Sniff Me Out_."

Masky stood up, and stretched his legs. Surely, his calves were stinging from the long lack of blood flow. "It's not his favorite," he simply replied this as though I were actually trying to impress his Master with a pleasant scent.

Shrugging it off, I turned around and packed up my toothbrush into the backpack. With the fresh fallen rain, I could refill my bottle, so I kept that out. "Then I guess we won't have a nice date." It's funny how I keep joking about Slender trying to swoon me over and all. I mean, we hate each other, but I enjoy cracking the jokes at him. This will all probably come back to bite me, though.

I heard Masky move to the doorway from behind me. He stopped for a moment, "You're way too calm about this."

"Good." It's all I could say as I began straightening up my things; folding the blanket and strapping my knives and their holsters to me, etc. It took me a bit, and neither I nor Masky exchanged further words with each other.

When I turned to look at him, wondering what else the Proxy wanted to tell me, I found him gone. Can the Proxies Slender-walk, too? Or do they really move that silently, even in leaves? As crazy at it seemed, the former seemed the most logical. That's either really cool or very bad that supernatural happenings were beginning to be easier for me to accept, rather than the possibility of ninja talents. It's sad to think that way, since I spent a large portion of my life studying folklore and supernatural sorts. So why was it so hard to wrap my head around it when I'm finally confronted with the real thing?

Whatever. What's happened has happened, and there's not much that I can change about it. Just gotta deal with it, right?

Right.

Despite the risks of going anywhere near my house again, I made the decision of paying a visit to Cheryl and Dayle later in the day. I wanted to at least make sure that they understood that it wasn't me who's been taking all of the children. Most likely, there have been more missing cases since I went under the radar.

To spend the rest of the morning and afternoon, I scouted around for my next camping spot for the night, checked my traps, hunted a bit, and gathered any edible vegetation for the day. I had found a couple new buildings that I hadn't run across before, so I spent that bit of time scouring them for any bit of supplies that I could use. There wasn't much. Another blanket, sure, and I was happy to find some extra warmth, since I didn't know how much longer I'd be without modern climate control. There were a couple of mostly used lighters, and I took them greedily. Lighter fluid goes faster than you'd think. Lastly, I had found an old tarp, though it had a few holes in it. Still, it could prove useful.  
When I had decided on my new camping spot, I transferred all of my belongings to it. This time, it was a thick covering of brush on a convenient rise in the ground. If it rained, at least it wouldn't flood. That tarp would come in handy, but might give out my position, if anyone was still actively searching for me. The bright blue color sticks out like a sore thumb in these brown and greenish woods. I'll have to put the tarp up as late as possible tonight, just in case it rains again. Maybe cover it with some leafy branches or moss.

My hunting had proved successful. I managed to corner a rabbit after blocking up its holes when it went out to forage. The poor thing tried to hide in a hollow in a tree, and that's where I skewered it with Tamashii.

If what I think the swords do is true, then I don't want to risk finding out what happens if one eats flesh that's been effected by Karada, thus my use of Tamashii instead.

When dusk came, I had finished roasting and devouring the rabbit meat. It was delicious, don't get me wrong. In fact, since rabbit meat has no fat, I still had to force down some grubs that I plucked out of rotting logs so my body wouldn't starve.

Yes, the body can starve if it doesn't get enough fat over long periods of time.

The rabbit meat helped wash out the flavor of the grubs, which wasn't the best flavor, but tolerable. I put out the fire and buried it under plenty of dirt as soon as I didn't need it anymore.

The cooling evening air stung at my skin, and I once again wished I had a jacket. This T-shirt just wasn't cutting it. When I go to visit, I'll stop by the house and snatch one out of my closet. Maybe, if things go well, I'll even get a shower!

I gathered any bits of necessities for my trip to Cheryl and Dayle's house. I had to prepare for anything, and my imagined worst-case scenario was that the cops were waiting for me there. So, I stocked my backpack with emergency medical supplies, or what little I had left, made sure that my swords and "outing" knife were strapped to me, and tried to wash off as much of the dead animal musk that I could. It still lingered, but not nearly as bad anymore. My bullet-proof vest was already on; heck, the only time it was ever off of me was when I would bathe.

The trip to the Hackbury house was quiet. A deer here and there scattered away from me. An owl hooted, watching my every move until we both couldn't see the other anymore. I didn't hear any crickets chirping, probably because it was getting so cold. This meant that the grub supplies would shorten out soon, too, not that I'm complaining – much.

When I reached the edge of the forest, I saw that the back door of the Hackbury house was illuminated by the light that hung above it. It was pretty dark. Hardly a bit of light from the setting sun, which was already below the horizon of trees and houses. I glanced around, searching carefully for human-shaped shadows. Everything seemed clear. Not even an unfamiliar vehicle parked nearby. A faint glow from the front of the house reached around the edge of the porch, greeting anyone who might want to visit. Most likely, these lights were meant for me. Cheryl and Dayle only left the lights on if one or the other were coming home late from work, but I got the sense that this wasn't the case tonight.

With a deep breath, I made my way to the back door as quietly as possible, stepping up the three cement steps that connected the ground with the raised house.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Soft footsteps approached from behind the door. When it opened, I found Dayle glaring at me. He narrowed his eyes, full of a hate that I couldn't register at the time. Even worse, he said words that I couldn't understand, "I've never hit a woman in my life, but I think you can be the exception."

My body was frozen. I could feel my skin run cold as I wondered what on earth the police had told Dayle. Worse, what did Cheryl tell him? Did she say anything at all?

Before I could finish thinking over it, Dayle's fist clenched the collar of my shirt and pulled me inside the house. "Cheryl! Call the cops!" He then closed the door behind us and threw me into the kitchen counter a few feet away.

The sharp corner of the counter stung my upper arm pretty good, but that wasn't what kept me from fighting back. More so, it was the shock of the sudden betrayal from the people I thought were my family. Sure, I told Detective Statman that I didn't fully trust them, but most of it was a lie. I had grown too close to the Hackburries, and now I was paying the price. Stuttering uncontrollably, I managed to utter out, "W-what did I do?"

"You know what you did, you disgusting bitch!" Dayle stomped over to me, his face was devil-red, and I could set the glimmering of tears brimming in his eyes. "How can you stand yourself with innocent blood on your hands?!" Something blunt connected with my jaw. I'm pretty sure it was Dayle's fist.

I was forced down onto the floor from his punch. Somehow, my jaw hadn't been dislocated, but it hurt pretty bad. What surprised me most was that I still couldn't bring myself to fight back. I was too confused as to why Dayle would believe the police over me. Why would they believe that I had killed Jayden – or any child – after all the times we had grown so close? Sure, there was strong evidence against me, but they should know! "Dayle, please! Let me explain!"

Cheryl's voice met my ears. I could hear her in the next room, frantically talking to the cops over the phone. I needed to get out of here soon.

That wasn't going to happen just yet, though. Dayle grabbed me by the shirt again, both hands now, and threw me aside to slam into the kitchen floor. He was probably just acting on impulse at this point. "Explain what? How you used my son's blood to paint your walls?"

I locked eyes with Dayle, disbelief still written all over my face as I lifted myself up. "How could you think I would do that? I loved you guys. I-I would never-"

"There's evidence all over your house!" The tears that were only brimming his eyes earlier now trickled down Dayle's hot cheeks. His face twisted and contorted between fury and grief as he yelled at me. "What else are we supposed to think?!"

No, no, no. Don't just assume it was me! Don't hate me! Please don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone again.

"It was the Slender Man!" The words just blurted out of me. I was too desperate to hide all the crazy things that were happening anymore. "He still has Jayden, and He keeps bringing Jayden in my house to taunt me! Jayden drew the blood on my wall!" The sound of police sirens wailing in the distance stopped me from going on, reminding me that I needed to escape.

"That's a bunch of bullshit, and you know it! Who's your accomplice?" Dayle closed in on me, reaching out to grab me again.

I blocked him with a sweep of my forearms, then shoved him back. The fighting spirit within me finally kicked in, though I didn't want to hurt Dayle. I dashed around him while he stumbled to catch his balance, heading to the back door as I glanced over in hesitation. "I've only been trying to get Jayden back!" My voice cracked as I started to cry, too. Deep, labored breaths rushed in and out of my lungs.

Dayle lunged for me, but I grabbed one of his arms, forced it far across his body to knock him off balance, and kicked in one of his legs, sending him falling to the floor. No bones were broken, but he did cry out in pain a bit.

The sirens were louder. Already at the front of the house. I opened the door, "I'm sorry!" Then rushed out and returned to the cover of the forest.

It wasn't long before I heard dogs barking. Chasing me, I'm sure. Whatever scent they used for them, I had not clue, but there was no point in checking it out at the moment. I needed to get as much distance from them as possible. Going to my camp was a bad idea. The last thing I needed was for the police to confiscate more of my belongings, which I'm sure they took most of the things in my house. Instead, I aimed towards the southwest of the forest, knowing that there was still at least three miles of dense trees to cover me.

I ran for probably a mile, considering how heavy my breathing was, which wasn't too bad, but I was needing a break soon. The dogs were keeping up with me pretty well, and I could see the waving of flashlights in the distance behind me. I can't outrun these dogs. Not this time. I don't have enough of a head start. Covering my scent just wasn't going to happen, either. They'd find me before I could do anything about it.

Giving in to the inevitable, I stopped, turned around, and drew my swords.

No way was I going to get caught. Not after all that I've been through.  
If I have to take innocent life, then, God forgive me, so be it.  
I have to save Jayden. I have to put an end to the Slender Man. I have to prove my innocence.

Three separate figures dove through the forest brush, barking and growling at me. Three other police officers weren't much further behind. I hid behind a wide tree, pressing my back to it, and waited for the dogs to get close.

The poor things. The poor dogs. I didn't want to kill them, but there was much less chance of reasoning with them than the cops. Why? Why am I faced with this challenge? This isn't fair! What have I become?

The first dog rounded the corner. It was large, and I'm pretty sure it was the stereotypical German Shepherd. It's head snapped at my ankle, but I lifted my leg up just as I heard the dog get close. At that point, I slashed down with Karada, severing the head of my canine foe. "I'm sorry!" My throat clenched as I fought back the returning tears.

The illumination of a flashlight settled on the corpse of my bleeding foe, its body limp, though I think I saw the head snarl at me for a moment. I heard the cop curse out and shuffle around. It sounded like he was handling a gun.

Crap.

The second dog approached me from the other side of the tree, leaves and twigs alerting me as though trying to help me out. I turned, slashing right down the middle of the dog's head. It slammed into me, and I almost lost my balance, but managed to use the tree as support. I shoved the end of my blade into its chest, trying to end the poor creature's life a little sooner. It finally collapsed in a heap in front of me, writhing for a few more seconds. "I'm so sorry!" The words escaped me in desperation for forgiveness.

I heard the rustling of the cop from behind me, cautiously rounding from the side of the tree. I twisted Karada so that the blunt side of the blade knocked the gun out of his hands. He yelped in surprise as his weapon was sent spiraling somewhere into the darkness. The third dog still barking, snarling at me from a distance, I dove into the bushes and tumbled around just in time to avoid the second cop's fired bullets. He cursed at me, taking in the scene of his murdered animal companions.

The strong scent of iron filled the air, and rather than salivating to it, I actually felt nauseated. Maybe the guilt was getting to me? At least I wasn't losing my sanity, I think.

"She's armed! She's in the bushes!" The two police officers began yelling updates into their radios, swinging their flashlights around in search of me, but I continued moving out of sight. "Two K-9's are down! Two K-9's are down!"

I remained crouched within the bushes, moving as fluidly as possible to make little noise as I brushed past leaves and branches. There was another wide tree some several feet further up, and I took cover behind it, peeking around the side to assess where everyone was.

That was when the third dog came crashing through the bushes in front of me. I had only just enough time to tilt Tamashii's blade up so that the dog skewered itself. I grimaced, tensing my left arm to take in the force of the creature's momentum. In the faint moonlight that peered into the forest, I could see the white teeth surrounding my blade as it wriggled around to get free. I fought with the dog for a while, and it whined at me, growing weaker as it drowned in its own blood. I'm pretty sure I pierced into its mouth, and the blade exited somewhere from one of the poor dog's shoulder blades. Again, I apologized to it, over and over until it quieted down to fall over.

With one quick jerk, I managed to pull my sword out of the police dog, then flicked it to get most of the blood off. A wave of the flashlights reminded me that I still had to worry about men with guns, so I tumbled away, deeper into the forest brush. Now that I could focus on talking to humans, I tried my best to convince them to leave me be. "You've gotta hear me out! I can get Jayden back!" I stopped at another tree, trying to catch my breath, but it wouldn't slow.

One of the cops answered me, though it wasn't what I wanted to hear, "You'll tell us where the children are when you're in custody!"

"I don't know where they are, but I think I know a way to get them back. How many are missing?" At the rate I'm moving, I'll never lose these cops. Once they answer me, I need to make a break for it. They won't be able to follow me now that the dogs are out of the scene. Gotta get my breath steady, though. Deep breaths, Ella.

God, my heart was pounding. I'm pretty sure it should have exploded by now.

The cops didn't answer my question, and after waiting what seemed like minutes, I gave up on them. They weren't going to let me off without brutally interrogating me after my capture. With the three cops closing in, more approaching from far off, and my breath finally slowing, I sheathed Karada to dash away.

One cop opened fire, and the bullet grazed my upper right arm. Good thing I didn't still have Karada out. Following suit, the other two cops began firing their pistols at me, but missed. I had already made it beyond their field of vision in this thick darkness. Thank goodness my eyes were already adjusted to it.

They were yelling more reports into their radios, and cursing out at me, most likely to taunt me to come back. Screw that, I'm not chancing the approach of their back-up.

I ran as far as I could for as long as I could. The cold air was stinging my airways and lungs. Branches slapped me in the face, my arms, leaving scrapes and bruises all over. My jaw was hurting pretty good, too. The swollen lump where Dayle had punched me felt incredibly hot compared to the rest of my body, which was sweating pretty heavily from all the running and absolute fear.

It's been a long time since I had been this scared – this desperate.

When my body began to give in to exhaustion, I was on the west side of the forest. No longer could I hear the cops yelling, or the sirens wailing. Maybe I was safe? It seemed so.

I sheathed Tamashii, and began searching for a place to hide, wondering if I could make a long route back to my camp and retrieve everything before the police discovered it. After that, I should travel to the next town or two over to get some distance.

My arm was bleeding pretty bad, and that's probably why I was feeling so worn out already. Glad to have brought my medical supplies, I decided to take a quick break and bandage myself up. I took out some hydrogen peroxide and poured a bit onto the bullet wound. The bullet passed through the skin, leaving a deep depression in my arm, but at least I didn't have to dig anything out. Not that the peroxide was painless. The bubbles stung pretty well, but I grinned through it. I then wiped up the wound, cleaning off any dirt and sweat, and finished by wrapping a thick gauze pad over the wound with some ace bandages. It'll have to do until I have more time to treat it.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, startling me into an instinctive reaction of swinging my fist into whoever it was behind me. How had I not heard him approach me? I landed a hard punch into the person's chest, knocking the wind out of him. As he stumbled back, coughing and wheezing, I only then noticed the yellow hoody he was wearing.

"Shit," Hoodie coughed and gasped between his words as he hunched over, "You hit hard."

"Don't just grab me while I'm running from danger!" I glanced around, remembering that I needed to keep my guard up for the police. I began packing my medical supplies into my backpack. "What do you want? Ol' tall, dark, and douchey have another message for me?"

Once he caught his breath, Hoodie stood upright and gestured for me to follow. "No, but I do: Stop getting injured." He didn't wait for my approval, and began jogging what looked like in the direction of northwest.

Reluctantly, I followed him. He had helped me in escaping the house, so maybe I could trust him again? Maybe I'll have a better chance with him than running from the police my own way. So, I hoisted the backpack onto my shoulders and chased after that Proxie. "Aw, you care about my well-being? I'm so flattered."

"No, I care about _my_ well-being. If Master has to wait much longer for you, it'll be on mine and Masky's head."

"What, you two are my guardian Proxies or something?"

"Yeah, you wish. We're just ordered to keep you in tip-top shape for Him, but you keep screwing that up." Hoodie led me down a thin path that looked occasionally used. Our feet thudded and crunched in the crisp leaves that covered the damp dirt below.

"Oh, well, excuse the Hell out of me for having been framed by Slender for all the kidnappings! It's not like I was trying to get noticed by the law!"

We stopped in front of an old, run-down house. It looked ready to collapse at the very tap of a bird's feet, but somehow kept its rather scanty shape. Hoodie grabbed onto the rusted brass handle and tugged on it a couple of times before the door gave way, opening up to a dimly lit foyer. "Shut up and get inside. You'll be safe in here."

Going into a shady looking house with a guy I can't fully trust? Yeah, that sounds safe. I stepped back a bit, pondering my options. "This is way too close. I need to at least get to the other side of the next town."

Before I could continue rambling, Hoodie grabbed my bad arm and forced me through the doorway. "Damn, you're irritating."

"Ow! Careful with the arm!" I turned to slap Hoodie, but midway into my swing, I heard the deep sound of someone clearing their throat. Someone further down the foyer. I stopped, my fear creating all sorts of ideas of who it might be. When I turned, I was confronted by exactly who I thought it was.

The Slender Man stood there, straight, still, and imposing. The walls and flooring that decorated what I could so far see of the house interior complimented his sharp characteristics. He stared at me expectantly with that blank white head. I could feel his eyes, or whatever would count as his eyes, holding their gaze. I noticed Jayden standing next to Him, the brand on his cheek scarred over. His eyes looked glazed, just like when I found him in the alleyway in the city. The poor kid even seemed to have lost a bit of weight, with his hollowed eyes and cheekbones. Was Slender even feeding him?

The click of the door behind me snapped me out of my concerns, and I wondered how it closed so easily compared to when Hoodie had trouble opening it.

Jayden's mouth curled slightly into a smirk, and he simply greeted, "Welcome, dear Ella."

* * *

**Woo! Carnage! Poor Ella. **

**Anyway. Now for that Fun Fact! (I've been meaning to mention this one for a while, but kept forgetting).**

**Fun Fact****: The Ella in this story is actually strongly based on a superhero that I made up, also named Ella (her last name has changed though). I was so in love with the balance of Ella's strengths and flaws that I wanted to use her more in stories, but my daydream eventually came to an end, then this fanfic came to life! The "Super" Ella was eventually turned into a half-Unicorn, and also had healing powers. lol They were very limited, though, but I won't go into detail about it. She also only had a katana that devoured souls after making the killing blow, and this was how it stayed sharp and healed itself from damages. The human Ella is what you have in this story. No healing powers will be brought up, though. I don't plan for her to have any super powers, so don't fret. What she has now is what she'll always have.**

**Bonus Fun Fact****: "Super" Ella's hero name was dubbed "Lady Unicorn" by the citizens in her city after she went public with all the healing of sickly and handicapped people she saved. This is where I got my username; however, I've seen someone else use the name, so I decided on the more scientific term "Monoceros", since I study the history of Unicorns. XD**


End file.
